Fugitive
by KelliP
Summary: Alternate ending for 5x05 Probable Cause. The evidence is overwhelming. They can't clear his name. They have nothing that can help him, nothing can stop him from dying as he's locked behind bars. But she once told him she'd get him out, and so she does. She does the only thing she can think of- she breaks him out.
1. Chapter 1

**A/N:** This is something I actually started last week after giving in to the sneak peeks, which followed my re-watch of too many Prison Break episodes, but I decided to wait until the episode aired to post it. Loved the episode, loved how Becket thought about breaking Castle out, loved out Castle actually did break out, and though it wouldn't have worked in the context of the show, this is what's been plaguing my mind for the past week.

* * *

**Fugitive**

* * *

"Castle, this isn't over.

I promise you- I will get you out."

- Kate Beckett, 5x05 _Probable Cause_

* * *

He can't believe this is over. His entire life- his books, his daughter, his mother, _Kate_- it's all about to be taken away from him. He doesn't even have a choice anymore- it's out of his hands. There's nothing he can do. He's been striped bare of all his rights, not even left with the choice to keep on living.

He sits alone in the dark holding cell, his eyes still focused on the spot Tyson stood just moments before. The moonlight filters through the window at the other end of the long corridor, providing the only light in the dark space, the bulb on the opposite wall burnt out long ago. The bench is cold beneath him as he sits. It chills his entire body, sends shivers up his spine. Castle's fingertips grip the edge as he tries to stop his body from shaking, unwilling to break down.

This was supposed to be his last night of freedom. Now, it's his last night. The last night before everything is taken away from him, and his family and friends are left to suffer as he's punished for a crime he never committed. So he sits alone in the dark, counting down the minutes as the time draws closer. He wishes he were anywhere but here, anywhere but confined to the place he's devoted the last four years of his life to, only to have it stab him in the back.

Tyson told him how it's going to go down. In the morning, the officers will come to escort him. He'll be taken to the courthouse for his arraignment. He can plead innocent, but the charges are strong. He'll be denied bail, and will be detained, and that's when it will happen. That's when they'll strike.

Slowly, he leans back against the stone wall. It's hard and unforgiving against his spine, which is already aching from the hours he's already spent sitting here. Castle has to bite back a low groan that rumbles in his throat, running a hand through his hair instead to try and relieve some of the frustration coursing through his veins.

They've found nothing. Long days filled only with investigations that have turned over nothing. At least, nothing except more evidence against him. The stack is high, the evidence overwhelming, and for once, he can't talk his way out of it. This isn't something where he can smile and wink and turn on the Richard Castle charm. No- this is much more serious. He can't clear his name- Tyson's made damn sure of that.

Suddenly, he's on the edge of his seat. In the stark silence of the night, the clack of heels against the stone floor echo loud, reverberating off the wall as the person approaches. He sees the shadowy outline cast against the wall in the moonlight, the dark silhouette contrasting against the pure white moonlight, and his heart stops for just a moment before the figure comes into view.

_Kate_.

The moonlight bathes her in an eerie glow. Her face is too calm, not matching the fierce stance of her body, the rigid posture of her spine. But her eyes are bloodshot, lips puffy, the tip of her nose red- she's been crying. Castle's heart lurches at that, picturing her sitting alone in her apartment, tossing and turning as she lay in bed, unable to sleep as the tears streak down her face.

And then she breaks. "Castle…" she chokes. Her forehead falls against the metal bars imprisoning him, a hand clapping over her mouth to muffle the sobs that escape from her throat. "Oh,_Castle_."

"Kate, it was Tyson," he whispers urgently. "He- he was just here. He's planned this whole thing."

She freezes, eyes wide as she stares at him. "Tyson?"

Castle nods.

Training kicking in and instincts taking over, Beckett flies into action immediately, pushing off the cell door and whipping her head around in search of Tyson. But Castle is quicker, jumping from his seat and grasping the fingers she has curled against the bars.

"He's gone, Kate," he says, shaking his head to stop her, fingers grasping hers in a plea to just stay with him. "Long gone. You won't find him."

And then he tells her everything. Every last excruciating detail of Tyson's grand plan, of exactly what will happen to him tomorrow. Beckett's face pales as she listens to him, her body rigid, breathing shallow and lower lip almost quivering.

When he finally finishes, his voice is completely broken. He doesn't know what to do. He's completely terrified at the fate that will befall him. His stomach churns, and he's sure he would be sick if it weren't for the tips of Beckett's fingers curled with his. His eyes plea with hers, desperate for some sort of comfort she should never have to give to him. When he speaks, it's barely a whisper, voice strangled and scared as it knots in his throat.

"He's going to kill me, Kate."

In front of him, Beckett's eyes flutter shut, and in the moonlight he can see the shimmer of a tear that slips out. And shit- _shit_- this is worse than he realised, because Katherine Beckett_doesn't cry_, and he _cannot_ be the one at the root of it. All he wants is to reach out for her- touch her and comfort her, pull her into his arms- but he can't. Not with this damned cell door between them.

"Kate, please," he whispers again, trying to keep his own voice from cracking as he forces himself to accept his fate, if only for her benefit. "It's okay. It's going to be okay."

She shakes her head sadly, her eyes despondent as she studies him. "It's not, Castle. Even without Tyson, even if you made it to the trial, they- they've found more."

_More?_

"DNA," she continues. "Your hair, at the scene."

"That's entirely probably," he argues. "I was there, with all of you. It could have-"

She shakes her head again, silencing him. "In her bathroom. Her bedroom."

"I didn't- I- _no_," he insists. "I didn't do anything, Kate. It was Tyson. It was all Tyson. God- you have to believe me."

Her eyes lock onto his, and he sees nothing but a complete faith in them. No trace of the sliver of doubt he'd seen when Esposito arrested him in his own home only one night ago, when she'd come to him only hours before with fake emails in her hand, questioning his faithfulness to her.

"I do," she says strongly. "I do believe you, but this- I-"

His eyebrows knit together in concern that she's blaming herself for this. For not being able to help him. "This isn't your fault, Kate. You know that, don't you?"

To that, she says nothing.

"Let me tell you what's going to happen," he starts off slowly, his voice quiet yet insistent, demanding her attention. "You're going to alert someone that Tyson was just here, but you're not going to look for him. You're going to keep searching, find something that can link him to the case, something that will prove my innocence. You'll have me released before I even leave this building, and soon enough, this we can put this entire mess behind us."

Something flashes through her eyes- something of a fierce determination, but with a wild edge to it- but it's gone before he can pin it. It leaves him uneasy, but then her steady voice is reassuring him. "I promise you, Castle- I'm going to get you out," she swears. "Whatever it takes- I'm going to get you out."

* * *

She comes for him early in the morning, cuffs in her hand. She opens the door slowly, steps carefully towards him. His heart drops low in his gut, eyes falling down at the realisation that this is it. He thought she'd be able to get him out. He thought she'd find something. But she couldn't, and it's time. It's time already, and it hasn't _nearly_ been long enough, and he's not ready, but-

He doesn't have a choice.

Holding back the tremble that threatens to burst, Castle holds his hands up for her. He doesn't want to make this any harder for her than it already is, so he keeps quiet, keeps his eyes on the handcuffs instead of on her. But Beckett doesn't move to curl them around his wrists.

"Do you trust me?" she whispers. His eyes flick up to hers, and there's a fiery determination in them, begging for him to answer her.

There's no question about it. "Of course."

She gives him a tight smile, fingers encircling around his wrists. "Don't say anything. Just- follow."

Castle frowns in confusion, but she's already ducking her head. He feels the cool metal of the cuffs slip around his wrists, one at a time, and then her fingers close around his arm. She tugs for him to follow, eyes urging him, and the strange look he couldn't quite place from last night is back again. He doesn't question her, though. Just remains silent as they move through holding, past the other cells that are still empty and towards the officer in charge of the precinct's lockup.

"Transfer for Richard Castle," she says quietly. The man before them glances down at the old desktop computer.

"Didn't think he was being transferred for another hour," the officer responds.

Beckett swallows, eyes dropping for a second. Her breathing is shallow and shaky, and she bows over, as if she can't stand that he's being transferred. "They're- they're here for him early," she chokes out. "Want to avoid the press."

And that's when Castle realises what is wrong. Her hand on his arm is too relaxed, not matching with every other distressed signal she's putting out. His heart drops, stomach lurches, because she _cannot_ be doing what he thinks she is.

His eyes shoot to hers, but she's pointedly keeping her gaze down. Castle opens his mouth to protest, but her fingers squeeze his arm in warning, as if she knows exactly what's going through his head right now. And that does nothing to ease the tangled mess inside of him.

"All right," the officer says suddenly. "Take him up."

Beckett is dragging him along then, his legs suddenly shaky as they refuse to hold him up. Castle's eyes are wide, heart beating erratically in his chest. He tries to speak again, but nothing other than a choked sound makes it past his lips, so he gives up and keeps silent as he _prays_ that his mind is making this up and she's not actually doing this.

But then she's pulling him into the back stairwell, hiding them both just out of sight. Beckett's fingers finally drop their grip on his arm, only to dig into the front pocket of her pants. His eyes flick down in suspense, and when her hand appears once again, object clasped between her fingertips, his heart drops.

A key.

"Kate?" he asks hesitantly, just _hoping_ he's misreading this, but he knows he isn't. He can see it in her eyes- the defiant look, the stubbornness, the unwavering _love_ she has for him. He shakes his head, begging her not to do this, but she's already lifting the key to his handcuffs.

Castle jerks back, pulling the cuffs that are still on his hand out of her reach. He hasn't moved far- he can't without exposing the both of them, exposing what Beckett is trying to do- but it's just far enough. His sudden movement has startled her, and she pauses, eyes wide as she studies him.

"Kate, just _think_ about what you're doing," he hisses. "You can't undo this, Kate. You'll never be able to come back from this."

"There's no other choice," she says, and he can hear in her voice how completely she believes it. He does, too, and even though it's a sad realisation, he can't let her do this.

"You can't, Kate. Please. Just take me back," he tries to talk her out of this. "Let's turn around, pretend there was a miscommunication, and forget this ever happened. No one needs to know."

"Tyson's going to _kill_ you, Castle," she chokes out. "Do you realise that? Do you realise how serious this is? Are you even listening to a word I say?"

"Are _you_ listening to _yourself_?" he retorts. "Kate, this is mad. Don't do this. You're not- you're not thinking straight."

"The hell I'm not," she growls. "If you think I'm just going to stand by and watch as they take you, knowing exactly what's going to happen to you…" She shakes her head. "No. Not if I can help it."

"Then help me by doing this the right way," he pleads with her. "I can't have you losing your badge over this. No, forget about your badge- I can't have you going to jail over me. Because that's what will happen, Kate. You'll go to _jail_. Do you understand that?"

"Do _you_? That's where you're heading _today_, Castle. You're heading there _today_, and you're going to _die_. We're out of time. It's now or never," she says, completely convinced of herself, of what she's doing. "This is the only choice."

And then she grabs his hands, and unclicks the cuffs.

Suddenly, he's unable to breath. The panic wells up in his chest, constricting his lungs. He claws useless at his chest, gasping for air, because this is _so wrong_, but he can't stop her. His hands are trembling with the realisation she's _actually doing this_- she's actually _breaking him out_ before he's sent to prison. And yet her hands don't even shake. They're steady. Sure. She's completely certain of her actions, completely convinced this is the only way to help him.

Castle feels the metal rings slip off his wrists. He watches as Beckett pockets them, along with the key, before standing straight before him. There's a look in her eyes that frightens him, and it's a moment before he pins it. He's seen that look before. It's the same one she gets whenever she talks about her mothers case. And he knows what that case does to her- leaves her raw, on edge, completely unpredictable.

And then she's tugging on his arm, trying to pull him towards the emergency door that will lead them outside. He plants his feet into the ground, leaning backwards, forcing her to halt unless they both want to fall to the ground. "Kate, please- just think about this. _Really_ think about what you're doing."

"I have," she whispers. "And I'm not going to let them take you."

She tugs on his arm again, more forcefully this time, but he doesn't give in just yet. Instead, he tries to make her see reason from a different angle, or at least make her feel guilty enough to just leave him be. "What about Alexis? I can't leave my daughter, Kate."

"I've taken care of it," is all she says.

She's- what?

"You've taken care of it?" he gawks. "What- what does that even mean?"

"I'll explain everything later, Castle. I promise, but right now, we _have _to go."

"Kate-"

"Castle, don't argue with me," she growls stubbornly, but her eyes are soft, begging him to follow her.

Suddenly, a door slams open somewhere high above them, the whack as it hits the wall echoing even in the open stairwell. Beckett's eyes are wide as her neck snaps up to the source of the sound, listening to the sound of footsteps descending towards them.

When she turns back to him, her hands are urgent, sliding down to his fingers and lacing them with hers. Her voice is insistent, eyes filled with desperation as she pleads silently for him to follow.

"Someone's coming," she whispers. "Quick. We have less than an hour before they realise we're both gone. We have to move. Now."

But he doesn't move, because he can't let her do this. Can't let her throw everything away over him.

When he refuses to follow, Beckett takes a step back, hand gripping the doorhandle, the wild look in her eyes once again. "If you stay here- out of your cell, no cuffs around your wrists- they're going to know I was here," she states, her voice low and steady as she all but blackmails him. "You don't have a choice now. You stay, and I'll be arrested, and you'll be sent to die. So come with me, Castle. Now. Please. Before- before it's too late."

He presses his lips together, completely torn.

He can't let her do this, but he can't let her run alone.

And as much as he hates himself for it, he can't leave her.

"Please," she whispers, her voice cracking, eyes wide and shining with unshed tears.

And damn it- he loves her too much.

So they run.


	2. Chapter 2

**Two**

* * *

Castle's heart is pounding, the blood rushing through his ears, as Beckett crowds into him, pushes him out the door. He has no idea what her plan is, and is half-terrified they'll be caught, but he trusts her, and so he follows. Keeps close behind her like he always has, hand tightly clasped in hers. He barely even breathes as she peaks her head around the corner, or throws a glance back over her shoulder.

With no alleyway to escape through, they sneak down and into the parking garage, crouching low as they duck behind the line of squad cars and unmarked vehicles. Castle is mid-way between scurrying from one car to the next when an engine two places back suddenly roars to life. He startles at the sudden threat, tripping clumsily over his feet as he tries to move away and keep hidden. Tumbling forwards, he crashes into Beckett, the motion sending them both crashing to the ground as she's crushed underneath his weight.

But they aren't seen. The car rolls away, the officer inside completely oblivious. Beckett's elbow jabs him gently in his gut, urging him up. She's relentless, telling him they have to _hurry up_and _move_ before someone sees them. Castle rolls off her, a quiet apology on his lips as he hastily scampers up, when he suddenly pauses as the exit of the underground structure catches his sight.

The security guard. Twenty-four hours a day, there's always someone here, monitoring the flow of vehicles. He swallows the lump in his throat, because from here, it's either out past the watchman or back into the precinct. They have nowhere to go.

"Kate?" he asks hesitantly. "How are we getting out?"

It's only then does he notice whose car they're kneeling behind.

"Get in the trunk," she says as she stands, the keys already out of her pocket and sliding into the latch.

He pauses. This is a bad idea. They shouldn't be doing this. They're going to be found, and she's going to be arrested. "Kate-"

"You'll be in there for all of five blocks," she promises him, squeezing the hand of his that's still clasped with hers. "Do you trust me?"

With his life. After all, isn't that exactly what he's doing right now?

Castle climbs in without another word. He keeps his head low and out of sight, tucking his knees against his chest so he fits. With all the junk she's required to carry- bulletproof vests, first aid kits- it's not as roomy as the Pontiac GTO they'd been trapped in early this year. But the moment he's in, Beckett eases the trunk lid shut. The blackness encloses around him in an instant, the panic squeezing his heart for just a moment as his mind transports him back to the dark holding cell where Tyson visited him not eight hours before. He blows out a long breath and shuts his eyes, shutting himself off from the world.

Tyson isn't here. He's with Kate. She's going to drive him out of here, away to somewhere safe. They won't be caught, because no one knows he's escaped yet, no one knows she's helped him. They're fine. Everything's fine.

Feeling the car roar to life beneath him, Castle braces himself with palms flat against the floor, so he only slips ever so slightly as Beckett peels out of her parking spot. He holds his breath as the car slows to a stop on the ramp out to the street, listening intently to Beckett's muffled voice as she makes small-talk with the guard. There's a split second when there's a pause in the conversation where he thinks this is it- that they've been caught- but then the car rolls upwards again and turns out onto the street.

True to Beckett's word, it's barely two minutes when he feels the car slow, the vehicle swerving gently to the right as she pulls up beside the curb. He listens carefully, hearing her cut the engine and open her door. Castle holds his breath in suspense then, the soft jingle of her keys in the trunk latch just filtering into his ears.

And then there she is. Hovering over him, the sun shining behind her, wrapping around her and bathing her in a warm glow. With a smile, she grabs his hands, pulling him awkwardly to his knees as he tries to manoeuvre in the tight space. Throwing his legs off the ledge and jumping back onto solid ground, Castle breathes in the freedom of being outdoors once again.

At the sudden sound of a car-horn, Castle freezes. His heart stops, lungs refuse to breathe, fingertips dig into the back of Beckett's hand. His head snaps around, searching for any sign they've been followed, any sign of the police crashing down on them.

There's nothing. The street almost empty, save for a few passers-by that aren't paying them any attention. Satisfied when the strangers continue on their journey, Castle turns back to Beckett. He has absolutely no idea what she has planned, no idea where they're going to go from here. They're sitting ducks here, though. The longer they wait, the greater the chance someone notices he's missing. He knows how it works- they'll put out an APB, start up a manhunt, and have every officer the NYPD can spare searching for him.

Heart racing and lungs panting, Castle looks at Beckett with wide, fearful eyes. "Now what?"

Her eyes glint as she unclasps their palms to lace their fingers together, tugging him along as she begins to move, urging him to follow. "We disappear."

* * *

They find him missing within the hour.

The two officers from central booking arrive three-quarters of an hour later, ready to escort Castle to the tombs. With no sign of Beckett, the Captain sends Esposito down to holding. That's when he's told Beckett had already come to collect him almost an hour ago.

Gates orders the building be locked down, but it's useless. Beckett and Castle are long gone. So the District Attorney declares this a prisoner escape, labels them both fugitive, and issues warrants for their arrest. Despite the protests of Ryan and Esposito, Gates begins a manhunt, unable to do anything else but obey the D.A. with one of her own detectives aiding the escaped writer. The alert goes out to all units across the five boroughs, with every available man being called in to help with the hunt. Their photos are circulated to all airports, train stations, and bus ways, because this is Richard Castle, and Richard Castle has enough money to flee with ease. As an added measure, their faces are plastered all over the television, their names broadcasted across the radio, warning citizens to keep caution. As far as New York is concerned, Richard Castle and Katherine Beckett are wanted.

But an hour is a long time. A long time for Beckett to drive Castle out of the city and cover a lot of ground.

Beckett has a car waiting for them a few blocks further from where she pulls her unmarked cruiser over. It's old- rusted and completely battered- and Castle had no idea where she got it from or how she bought it so quickly. But apparently, it runs. So when Beckett levels an insistent glare across the roof for him to hurry up and get in, he opens the door without an argument. No time to be picky, no time to worry about whether they'll survive in this death trap. They've got to move.

Castle eyes her from the passenger seat as she jams the key into the ignition and peels away from the curb. She looks so wild right now, and if he didn't trust her so completely- didn't love her so damn much- he'd be scared. Her eyes are wide and feral, lips curled back into a tight line. Her posture is rigid as she drives, her knuckles white with the vice-like grip she has on the wheel. There's an air about her that screams she's dangerous, that there's absolutely nothing that can stop her. It's the same look she gets whenever her mother's case comes up, and it worries him, because that stubborn determination has nearly killed her too many times before.

But he doesn't say anything. Just lets her drive him away from the city, away from the fate that would have befallen him had he stayed in lockup.

They're not even on the road for a minute before she's fishing for something on her seat and throwing an old flip-top cell phone at him. Castle turns the phone over in his palm for a moment before flipping the lid. The buttons spongy underneath his fingers, the idle screen a dated greyish-green.

"What's this for?" he asks, holding the phone in the palm of his hand.

"So you can call Alexis."

Eyes wide, Castle gapes. "I- no. I can't call her. I'm not getting her involved in this."

"You don't have a choice," she tells him sternly. "If you want to talk her, you have to do it now. Before they turn up at her door. Before they tap the phone lines. Before they keep an eye on her at all times. Before they bug your entire apartment, and her dorm. Do it now, Castle. Before they get to her."

He growls. "This what you meant when you said you took care of it?" he asks in a low voice. "You bought a burner phone so I could call her?"

"She has another one, too," she continues, either oblivious to or unwilling to acknowledge the bitterness in his tone. "I slipped it into her coat pocket earlier. She should hear it ring. The number is in this phone."

"You-" he breaks away, running his fingertips down his face in frustration. "You left her a _phone_? That's it? I thought- I-"

"What else did you want me to do, Castle? You want me to tell her I was planning on breaking you out? Grab her too? Disrupt her life- her studies, her friends… Did you want me to take that all away, so she can run with us?"

"You should have at least talked to her!" he hissed.

"Castle, she wouldn't have agreed to it."

"_I_ shouldn't have agreed to it."

Beckett's gaze immediately snaps away from the road. She stares at him, a look of disbelief on her face, as if she can't believe he just said that. Her lower lip quivers for just a moment before she presses her lips into a stubborn line. Castle watches as she clamps down on her emotions and turns her attention back to the long stretch of road, away from him. Face now carefully schooled, void of any of her usual tells, he has no idea what's running through her head.

Damn it.

"The boys will protect them. Alexis and your mother- they'll be safe," she swears, but her tone is suddenly ice cold. "But don't you think it would be better Alexis hears this all from you, rather than from some officer she doesn't know knocking on her door?"

Castle clenches his jaw. He hates that she's right.

Switching the phone on, he waits for the out-dated model to start up before he clicks into the contact list to select the only number he finds. He presses the phone to his ear, listening as the dial tone rings on and on, before his daughter's demanding voice fills the line. "Who is this?"

Castle chokes back a sob. "Alexis," he breathes out slowly.

"Dad? What- how are you calling me? Aren't you still in-"

"No," he finishes for her. He's not still in lockup.

"What's going on, Dad?" she asks. "Is everything all right?"

He doesn't even know.

"I'm with Beckett," he says instead.

"With- Beckett," she repeats, testing the words on her own tongue.

"There was… something that came up," he explains carefully, keeping what she doesn't need to know from her. "It wasn't looking good. Kate- she said there's not another way."

There's a pause on the line, as everything finally clicks in place in Alexis' mind. "Dad, where are you?" she asks carefully.

"It's better you don't know," he whispers.

"Dad… Dad, no." His daughter's cries sound across the line, and Castle's heart shatters in his chest. "Come home, Dad," she begs him. "Please. Just come home."

"I can't," he chokes out. "Look, Alexis- I should go. But- keep that phone hidden on you at all times. Don't let anyone see it. If they don't know about it, I can call you again."

He knows it's not a permanent solution- that eventually, someone will find the phones Beckett bought- but it's the best he can do right now.

"Dad-" she hiccups.

"Don't tell anyone you talked to me, okay? I- I'll call you when I can."

"I love you, Dad."

"I love you too," he responds.

With that, Castle disconnects the line, switches off the phone, and pulls out the battery and sim. A hot frustration burning in his veins, he pitches the phone down onto the mat beneath his feet. It bounces angrily, hits his leg with a harsh blow, but he doesn't even acknowledge it. He just squeezes his eyes shut, head bowing to fall in his hands, elbows propped up on his knees.

God- he wants to go back so bad. Pull his daughter into his arms, promise her everything will be all right, but he can't. He can't go back, not now. The reality hits him hard- he's in this too deep.

Forget about him- _Kate's_ in this too deep. They turn back, and Kate's life is over. She'll be arrested, sentenced to prison, where she surely won't survive in the same place she's sent so many others.

Castle breathes out a long, shaky breath. His limbs tremble with the nerves he can't control. His stomach flips and rolls low inside his gut. He wants to be sick. Wants to rid himself of these damned _feelings_.

Suddenly, he hates himself for agreeing to do this. He wants to hate Kate for _making_ him do this, but he can't, because he loves her _so_ _goddamn much_. Now, this isn't even about himself alive anymore. It's about keeping _her_ safe, keeping _her_ out of jail, so she doesn't have to pay for the crime Tyson is framing him of.

It makes himself sick thinking about everything that's happened, but for a moment, Castle had thought she'd given up on him. When Esposito had cuffed him in his own home, he'd seen her head drop. He'd seen what he'd thought was a resigned look flash through her eyes as she gave herself over to the evidence, let herself be swept away into the mess that was the case.

But he was so, completely wrong, because here she is. Breaking him out of prison. Risking everything just to keep him safe. Throwing away her entire life- her job, her family, her friends, everything's she's ever worked for- because she can't let him take the fall for something he hasn't done. The knowledge of what she's done leaves him an odd mix of calm and angry. He hates it. Wishes it were one or the other, because sitting here in this drawn state and he doesn't know what to do. He can't look at her, and he can't do anything _but_ look at her.

He wants to kiss her. Wants to dig his fingers into her flesh, bite down on her neck, hear her moan his name until they both forget what she's done. Wants to tell her over and over again how much he loves her, because he does, so much, and he can't believe she's done this all for him.

On the other side of the coin, he wants to yell at her. Wants to shout and scream like a petulant child, because she's thrown away everything. Wants to tell her he wishes she didn't love him, because then she wouldn't be here. She'd be safe.

But he could never do that. He could never go back to how it was before they were together. He's too selfish to go without her love now. It's more than a simple desire; he _needs_ her. Doesn't know how to wipe her out of his life now she's so completely ingrained in it.

Still, it's a long time before Castle finally calms down enough after speaking with Alexis to even look at her. Risking a glance, he sees her grip is tight on the wheel, knuckles a pale white. Her face isn't even schooled anymore, jaw clenched and eyes strained, her cheeks hollow and lips pressed tight together. She's looks so completely unpredictable. He doesn't know what she's capable of, doesn't know the lengths she'll go to in an effort to keep his safe. And when his eyes fall to her hip, they rest upon her service weapon she's still wearing. He gulps, hoping she's only brought it because she'd forgotten to take it off and not because she thinks they'll need it.

He turns back away then, keeping his gaze firmly fixed out the side window. "You have a plan?" he asks in a low voice.

Out of the corner of his eye, he sees Beckett nod. "Keep driving. Put as much distance as possible between us and Manhattan."

He wants to snort. That's not a plan.

"We're not going to find somewhere to hide out?" he asks.

To that, she _does_ snort. "Where do you think we'd do that?"

He shrugs. "Your Dad's cabin?"

Her grip on the wheel tightens. "Castle, the moment they know I'm with you, that's the first place they'll go. A cabin deep in the woods? It's such an obvious hide-out."

"So… where _are_ we heading?"

"West."

_West_?

"Shouldn't we go north? Head for Canada?" He's half-joking, having seen too many fugitive movies, but she's not.

"So border patrol can catch us?" She shakes her head. "No. We need to find a town. Somewhere that's big enough that we won't stand out, but small enough our faces won't be plastered on every corner."

Breath hitching in his throat, Castle looks away. Evidently, she _does_ have a plan. She's thought this through. She's _really_ thought this through.

As much as he trust her so completely- loves her so damn much- the wild look in her eyes scares him just a little.


	3. Chapter 3

**Three**

* * *

They sit in a stubborn silence for an hour, both watching the countryside fly by instead of watching each other. Even if he wants to break the silence, Castle doesn't know what he'd say. He's still in a state of shock, and he can't quite snap himself out of it. He can't believe here with Beckett, rather than detained somewhere in New York, or lying on a cold steel slab in the morgue. The relief would be bubbling inside him if he weren't also so frustrated with Beckett.

He can't help it. He's livid. It's ridiculous, but he can't help it. Grateful though he may be, he can't believe she's done this to herself. Thrown away everything, made herself a damned_fugitive_, all for him. He loves her for it, yes, but there's a part of him that would rather her still be in the city, safe and free.

But there's nothing that can be done now. The only option left is to run and hide, keep themselves out of sight and out of any more trouble. He knows the first forty-eight hours are crucial. They need to put as much distance between New York and themselves as possible. After that, things will begin slipping through the cracks, the trail they've left behind as they travel further and further away will become hazy. People will forget about them, witness accounts will become sloppy, with tips leading nowhere but around in circles, and, slowly, they'll disappear.

And if that's the case- if they're going to disappear together for God knows how long- he can't keep up this silent treatment with her.

"Stop the car," he demands suddenly.

Beckett snorts at his request. "Absolutely _not_."

"We need to talk," he growls. "Now."

She's stubborn, shaking her head at him. Her fingers curl tightly around the wheel, and Castle swears her foot inches down on the accelerator just a little more. "Castle, we're on the_run_. We don't have time to stop."

But he can be stubborn too. "Kate, stop the car. Now."

There must have been something in his voice- a warning tone, the edge of a breaking point, he doesn't know- because she's suddenly swerving off the road, half-hiding the car behind a cluster of trees. The moment the car brakes to a stop, Castle is out of his seat. He unclips his seatbelt and jumps out of the car without warning, pacing the length of the vehicle as he tries to blow off some of the frustration bubbling within.

"What the hell are you doing?" she calls out after him, hurriedly following his lead and scampering around the hood of the car.

He rounds on her then, his entire body shaking. He doesn't think he's ever been this angry with her. His hands fist by his side, posture turns feral, jaw clenches, and nostrils flare. He can barely look at her, doesn't want to hear her excuses, but he has to because they're _in this_ now. She's made him a fugitive, and she's made herself a fugitive. There's no turning back.

"Do you have any idea what you've done?" he hisses at her.

"I had to do something before it was too late," she growls back at him, crowding into him, but he doesn't take a step back. "If you thought I was just going to leave you there to die, you're sadly mistaken."

"But having to risk you being arrested as an accomplice?" He shakes his head. "I can't- _God_, Kate. _Why_ did you make me do this? You-"

"I _had_ to, Castle," she cuts him off, folding her arms across her chest defensively. "Why can't you see that? Don't you trust me?"

"I trust you with my life," he says in a low, unwavering voice. "I _am_ trusting you with my life. But this isn't you, Kate. You shouldn't have done this. There were other options."

"No, Castle, there weren't. Tyson was going to have you killed. What part of that don't you understand?"

He throws his hands up into the air at a loss. "You didn't think this through, Kate!"

"I _did_," she insists.

"What's your grand plan?" he demands. "Spend the rest of our lives on the run?

"They'll forget about you, Castle. You're not dangerous."

"I am to them. They think I _murdered_ someone."

"That's exactly it, Castle!" she exclaims, clapping the back of one hand down onto the palm of the other. "That's exactly what they think. You would have been detained, and then it would have been too late. Can't you see I didn't have a choice?"

"The hell you didn't! You could have dug for more evidence. You could have gone back to the D.A., asked them to delay pressing charges. You could have let me go to jail, Kate, instead of risking being sent there yourself. You _should_ have."

She recoils at his words. Bows over, clutches one hand to her stomach, the other to her mouth. "There is _no way_ I was going to let you go to prison, Castle," she chokes out, face paling. "God- how can you-" Breaking off, she takes a large step back and shakes her head in utter disbelief. "How can you even _think_ that? How can you stand there and say you would have been better off in _prison_? Better off _dead_?"

"Kate-"

"_No_, Castle. Can you just think about it from my perspective? For just a moment?" she pleads with him. "Imagine I was the one sitting in that holding cell. Imagine I was the one who was being framed for murder. Imagine I was the one who had a hit out on my life. Would you really have let me stay there? Would you really not have done everything you could to get me out? Even if it means _this_?"

To that, he says nothing.

She's right. If he were in her shoes, he would have done the exact same thing. Would have stopped at nothing to get her out, far away from there. God- he doesn't even want to think about the lengths he would have gone to just to keep her alive, because he really would have done _anything_.

"I didn't have a choice," she whispers brokenly.

She didn't.

And he hates it.

* * *

"This is bad, bro," Esposito murmurs to Ryan.

They're both leaning against Ryan's desk, watching the bustle of the bullpen. Officers scatter around, answering persistent phones that won't stop ringing and shouting out orders to one another. But the two partners simply stand there, refusing to do anything to help in the arrest of their friends.

"You really think Beckett was the one who let Castle out?" Ryan asks.

"You've seen the tape," Esposito reminds him. "It was her. There's no doubt about it."

And there really isn't. They've both watched Beckett as she's tried to find justice for her mother, both watched as absolutely _nothing_ could stop her. It's not even a stretch to say she'd go to the same lengths for Castle.

"She should have told us," Ryan says.

Esposito lets out a scoff. "What? So we could try and talk her out of it?"

"We _should_ have talked her out of it," Ryan hisses. "Doesn't she realise what she's done? It doesn't matter that Castle is innocent, because now everyone's hunting for him. No one's looking for Tyson anymore."

"Come on, man. Castle's life was at stake. She loves the guy- she did what she had to do to keep him safe."

There's a long silence after that, both considering exactly what Beckett has done, before Ryan eventually speaks up in question. "You think they're still in the city?"

Esposito shakes his head. "No way. As easy as it would be to get lost in this city, she'd know it would only be a matter of time before someone found them. There are only so many places they'd be able to hide."

"So, you think they're on the run, then?"

Esposito doesn't have a change to respond. The door to Gates' office suddenly swings open, shaking on its hinges with the force. She gestures to the pair of them, a pointed look on her face. "You two. A word, now."

Ryan nods, but before he can move Esposito claps on his shoulder, halting him for just a moment. "Don't breathe a word of their relationship to Gates," his partner warns him. "It'll only make things worse."

He nods. "I know, Javi."

The tension is thick in the Captain's office. Ryan stands beside Esposito in a vain attempt at presenting a united front, but it doesn't faze Gates. She simply stares down the both of them from her perch behind the large wooden desk. "Any word from Beckett or Castle?"

They don't even glance at each other. Just shake their heads in an automatic response, because even if Beckett _had_ contacted them, like hell they'd rat her out.

The Captain levels a glare at them. "I understand your loyalty to your team, but trust me when I say breaking Mister Castle out of our lockup doesn't bode well for either of them," she says sternly.

"You aren't saying you believe Castle did this, are you?" Esposito questions. Tone accusing, his eyebrow arches as he shifts his stance, demanding an answer from his superior. It's completely out of line, but Gates doesn't even blink.

"What I'm saying is it's looking more and more like he's guilty," Gates stares Esposito down. "Did Beckett ever say a word of this to either of you?"

They shake their heads.

Gates clicks her tongue, eyes disbelieving, but her stances relaxes. "All right. Off the record, I want the pair of you to continue investigating this case. Discreetly, of course. There are only two reasons Castle would have escaped- he's guilty, or he genuinely fears for his life. I think we all know the latter is the only option to believe. That being said, I still have a job that's been handed down to me. I can't stop the hunt for them- and God knows it's best we remain the ones in charge- so you two have to find something that clears his name."

Ryan exchanges a look with Esposito, something between relieved the Captain believes in Castle's innocence, and worried they won't be able to find anything to put a stop to this entire mess. But they nod in acceptance, because there's no way they're leaving the fate of two of their friends up to anyone else.

* * *

An hour after Castle's demand to stop on the side of the road, Beckett pulls off the highway, driving through the local streets of some unknown town in search of a junkyard. They figure by now, they police would have found her unmarked car dumped on the streets of Manhattan. Once they realise they're not in the city, it won't be long until they track down this scrap of metal she'd bought with cash so desperately this morning. So they need to dump it and buy something else, something with plates the police won't know to track.

Not far past the border into Pennsylvania, they drive by a caryard on the outskirts of some unknown town, the old vehicles with lids propped open littering the lot. Beckett drives for another half-mile before they ditch the car behind a cluster of trees, hoping it'll remain hidden from the road. Out of the back seat, she grabs the sole duffel bag they have, which carries all she'd managed to pack in this morning's brief window of opportunity. Dumping it on the grass, she reaches once again into the backseat to pull out a screwdriver.

"Take the plates off," Beckett says as she passes him the tool. Castle looks at the screwdriver in his hand for a moment, somewhat startled Beckett thought this far ahead. When his eyes flick back up to hers a moment later, he finds an eyebrow arched and an amused look on his face. Surely about to tease him as to whether he knows _how_ to use a screwdriver, Castle quickly shuffles around to the hood of the car, getting to work on the front license plate.

"So, what's the plan here?" he asks, finding he can all but rip off the loosely screwed on plate with his bare hands.

The sound of shattering glass is the only response he gets.

Castle shoots up from his crouched position, heart rising up into his throat in an unexpected panic. Beckett is standing at the rear side window, crowbar in her hand as she watches the last few shards of glass fall from the frame and into the backseat.

He blows out a long breath and presses a hand to his chest, trying to steady the racing heart that sits beneath his skin. With a quick closing of his eyes, Castle shakes his head, trying to shake off the fear that had risen so quickly along with it.

"We're making this look like a stolen car," she finally responds, raising her eyes to his. As she continues, she pulls the sleeve of her deep-green turtleneck down over her hands, leaning back into the front seat to wipe away their fingerprints. "This way, if it's found, they shouldn't be able to trace it back to us."

"Are we going to torch it?" he asks, suddenly all too excited for the troubling situation they're still in.

Beckett scoffs and shakes her head. "And have an exploding fireball draw attention to us? I don't think so, Castle."

He sighs, a little disappointed, but moves to pull off the back license plate. After Beckett shoves them in the duffel bag, Castle throws it over his shoulder before they begin the hike back to the caryard. She keeps close beside him as they walk, one hand brushing against his as it swings by her side. It would be reassuring if she weren't so on edge. Even under the cover of trees that line the deserted road, she keeps throwing glances in all directions. In her opposite hand, she keeps a tight grip on her gun, finger ready on the trigger.

"Kate," he starts softly, slowing his movement until they come to a stop. "Relax."

She shakes her head, eyes wide and wild. "This was a bad idea," she speaks, her voice strained. "We shouldn't have ditched the car. If they find us, we've got no way of escaping."

Castle takes her free hand then, giving it a gentle squeeze, rubbing his thumb across her skin soothingly. "They won't find us," he promises her, even though he knows shouldn't be making such assurances.

"Let's- just keep walking," is all she says, though at least when Castle drops his eyes to the gun in her hand, he notices her finger is off the trigger.

When they finally traverse the half-mile back, Beckett attempts to force him to remain outside. Castle lets out a scoff, because if she thinks he's going to leave her alone to wander around a dodgy car dealership with a seedy salesman, she has another thing coming. In a compromise, he keeps his head low under a baseball cap, and agrees to let her do the talking.

As the bell above the door tinkles, the salesman looks up from where he's been hunched over the desk. He's old and sleazy, eyeing Beckett up and down before he grins. "And what can I help you with, darling?"

A low growl rumbles through Castle's chest. He gets it- a girl like Kate in this neck of the woods doesn't come around often- but it doesn't mean he has to like it. Beckett's fingernails dig into the back of his hand in a warning, but he can't help it. Not only is this guy shady, he could easily take Castle, his thick muscles exposed by the half-ripped tank he wears. The only solace Castle has is that Beckett's gun is wedged in the back of his pants, hidden only by his untucked shirt.

"We're looking for a car," she says, all business. "What's the cheapest thing you've got that runs?"

"Take a look at the row just here," he says. The man points to the stretch of cars lining the extending from the door, but his eyes are fixed on Beckett. Ignoring his gaze, she motions for Castle to follow as they head back outside. The owner of the lot follows, eager to make a sale or take a shot at Beckett, Castle doesn't know. So he hovers over her, ignoring the pointed look she sends him to cool down. He stands firmly by her side as she lifts the hood of a deep navy car at the front of the line to check out the engine, fisting his hands in irritation when the salesman checks _her_ out once again.

Beckett jumps in the car after that, jamming the key into the ignition when man throws it at her. Castle listens as the engine softly kicks to life, and Beckett nods at him. It'll do.

Out of his pocket, Castle pulls out just enough bills to cover the cost of the car before jumping in the passenger seat. The moment the guy rips the price tag off the windscreen, Beckett peels away, swerving out onto the road without another look back.

"In a rush?" he tries to comment lightly.

Beckett's face is tense, cheeks taut and lips thin. "The longer we sit around, the more that guy has to remember," is all she offers him.

"You don't think he recognised us, do you?" he questions. "You think our faces are already on the news?"

"Even if they were, this isn't the kind of place you'd find someone watching the news," she scoffs, accompanying it with an eye-roll for good measure. "We just have to keep moving, so we don't have a chance to make a lingering impression."

Castle holds back a snort. There's no way she hasn't left a lingering impression in that guy's mind. But he keeps silent when Beckett's hand falls onto his thigh, fingers squeezing gently. Castle's eyes seek out hers as she drives, surprised by what he finds. There's no trace of the tension and panic they'd held as they'd walked just minutes before. All that's left is that soft, loving look. The same one she has when she's pinned beneath him on his sheets, gasping his name as Castle murmurs how he loves her.

He turns his head suddenly, keeping his gaze firmly fixed on the stretch of road in front of them, because if she keeps looking at him like _that_ they aren't going to make it another mile before he'll be forcing her to pull over for a little _detour_. Out of the corner of his eyes, he sees Beckett smirk, knowing exactly what she's done to him. But her hand doesn't lift, her fingers instead tapping out a staccato rhythm on his leg as they continue to leave everything behind and flee.


	4. Chapter 4

**Four**

* * *

Aside from gassing up the tank every few hours to keep it near full, they don't stop. Just keep driving straight down the freeway, heading far from the city. They don't even stay long enough at any one place to sit and eat, giving their legs only just enough time to stretch before they take the stale food they've purchased to go. Beckett keeps offering it to him, but he's still sick to his stomach with thoughts of being caught that there's no way he can eat.

Come nightfall, they've almost made it through Pennsylvania, just shy of the Ohio border. Though the sun has dipped below the horizon hours ago, Beckett hadn't wanted to stop for the night just yet. Every time Castle had protested, she'd insisted on heading just a little further. Now, however, it's well past midnight, and he can see the adrenaline wearing off her. Her eyes begin to droop, squeeze shut a little tighter every time she blinks. Her head lolls and shoulders sag, her grip on the wheel loosening underneath her fingers.

"I think it's time we stopped for the night," he requests quietly. Running all this way won't do them any good if they end up in a ditch on the side of the road, because they're both too tired to keep their eyes open.

Beckett twists her wrist to glance at her father's watch. "Oh. Sorry. Didn't realise it was so late."

Without protest, she flicks on her indicator to take the next exit. They drive through a small town- somewhere Castle has never heard of- with their eyes searching the streets for a place to rest for what's left of the night. In the end, the only place they can find that's still open is a sleazy motel on the outskirts of the town. Beckett tries to tell him it's safer (in a manner of speaking). That people at these places won't remember their faces should the police come knocking, that the cameras are most likely dummies, but he's still weary about spending the night here.

Castle keeps his concerns to himself, though, waiting in the car as Beckett heads for the front desk. She hands over enough cash for the few hours left until dawn, because it's _that_ kind of place, and Castle shudders once again at the thought of sleeping here for the night. Surely they'd be better off sleeping on the side of the road in the car. But then Beckett is striding back to the car, a set of keys in her hand. She goes straight for the back door, pulling out the duffel bag that sits on the floor and throwing it over her shoulder. When she motions for him to follow, he jumps out of the car, pointedly keeping his head turned down as he follows along the strip of rooms that line the car park.

Beckett leads him to a room near the end of the line of doors, somewhere out of the way on the ground level for an easy escape. Shoving the key in the lock, the old door shakes on its hinges as it opens. Castle grimaces as he follows her inside. There's nothing but a double bed with a discoloured duvet, a small round table in the corner that supports a tiny, black-framed T.V., and a door leading to what he's sure is the dirtiest shower he'll have ever seen.

"You can have first shower," Beckett offers him. Castle doesn't move, though, instead watching her as she slides the deadbolt on the door into place and drops the duffel bag onto the floor at the end of the bed. When she looks up to find him motionless, she prompts him again. "You're the one who's been sitting in holding. I'm sure you'd like to freshen up."

Castle nods absently. He's not sure fresh is something he'll feel as long as he stays in this place, but he doesn't make any more fuss. This is the only option they have, and it's definitely better than the alternative. He's not locked up in prison. He's not going to be taken out by another inmate or a crooked guard. He's here, free and with Kate. All the crap that comes with being on the run is so worth it just to be able to sleep next to her tonight.

When he still doesn't move, Beckett bends down, taking it upon herself to get him organised. The moment she unzips the bag, Castle freezes.

Benjamin Franklin's face is staring up at him. There aren't even just a few bills. There are wads and wads of fresh bills, tightly packed in between their clothes. Looking at it now, he has no idea how he hadn't felt it earlier, when the bag was on his shoulder as they'd hiked to the caryard.

"Kate?" he calls out quietly. She hums quietly in response, but doesn't angle her head towards him. "Where'd you get all that money?"

Beckett doesn't even blink. "I withdrew it. Should keep us going to a while."

He sucks in a long breath. "How-" he breathes out slowly. "How much is here?"

"About fifty grand."

Castle doesn't know what to think. She must have withdrawn every last cent she could get her hands on in such short notice. He can't believe she's using all this money just to help him.

"I'll pay you back," he blurts out. To that, she raises an eyebrow. "I- I'll pay you back. Every cent. This shouldn't be resting all on your shoulders."

Beckett shakes her head. "It doesn't matter, Castle. As long as it keeps us living, I don't care."

After exchanging his toiletries and a change of clothes from her arms to his, Beckett turns away, signalling the end of the conversation. Castle sighs, but doesn't say anything else. There's really nothing left _to_ say. He wishes she hadn't withdrawn the money, but he would have done the exact same thing.

He's just about in the bathroom when the television flicks on behind him. Interested, Castle spins back around, and freezes. He doesn't even so much as blink as he listens to the crackled sounds of the newscaster. How is he supposed to do anything _but_ stand there and stare, when the picture in the top right hand corner of the screen is of their own faces?

"… believed Richard Castle managed to escape with the assistance of NYPD Detective Katherine Beckett. The author and detective have worked close together for the past four years, and on numerous occasions, there have been rumours linking the two to a romantic relationship. Police are urging citizens to report any sightings of the pair, but caution to keep their distance. They have described Richard Castle as an elusive and dangerous fugitive, who will evidently let nothing stand in his way. Though his daughter and mother maintain he is innocent, this evasion of the police tells another story."

And then footage of Chief of Police addressing the press plays on the screen. Listening to the man talk about the two of them- how Castle is deemed to be dangerous, how Beckett has betrayed her badge and her city- is a low punch to his gut. He's never felt so betrayed.

As a harsh, strangled sound escapes from his lips, Beckett quickly shuts the television off. "Castle?" she calls out for him softly from her perch on the edge of the bed.

He doesn't acknowledge her, stomach curling as he reels, eyes fixated on the now-black screen. His heart pounds beneath his skin, the blood rushes through his ears, in a state of complete shock. He can't believe he's been painted as a fugitive, a wanted criminal, a _murderer_. Even though they'd known it was coming, actually listening to the reports- seeing their faces painted on the news- is an entirely different story.

"Kate-" he chokes out, eyes wide and panicked.

She moves for him then, coming to stand close beside him, but she doesn't touch him. "It'll be okay. We'll find a town where they won't look for us, and wait until this whole mess blows over."

"I'm sorry," he rasps. "I'm sorry I got you into this mess."

"Not your fault," she murmurs, finally lifting her fingertips to brush along his hairline. "I chose this. I chose you. Don't blame yourself."

He opens his mouth to apologise once again, but the words stick in his throat. Beckett's fingers encircle around his bicep, giving his arm a gentle squeeze of reassurance. "It's been a long day," she tells him. "Go and shower. You'll feel better."

He nods in a gesture of agreement, but doesn't quite believe it.

* * *

Gates clicks her tongue as she replays everything so far over in her mind.

There had been a murder. The initial evidence had pointed to Mister Castle. After findings further evidence all too neatly in his home, the writer had been arrested. He'd pled his innocence, swore Jerry Tyson- the elusive Triple Killer- is behind everything. That Tyson was going to have him killed. And then, suddenly, Castle escapes from holding and proceeds to disappear, along with her best detective.

The Captain sighs. She had never thought for a moment the man was guilty. Despite the evidence, despite his escape, despite her better judgement- she still doesn't believe the writer is guilty. But she knows if she doesn't seem impartial, the Feds will take over, and that won't do the writer or Detective Beckett any good.

A sudden knock on her glass door draws her attention from her thoughts. Glancing up, she sees Jack Williams- the detective she's assigned to head up the hunt beneath her– standing on the other side of the glass, files in his hands. She waves him in. "Updates?"

Williams nods. "Early this morning, Detective Beckett closed one of her accounts. A little over fifty grand."

Gates presses her lips together as she considers the information that's come to light. If Beckett is smart, they can do a lot of running with fifty grand.

"Any activity on Mister Castle's accounts?" she asks.

The detective shakes his head. "Nothing yet. Their accounts have been tagged, so we'll be notified the moment there's any activity."

Gates knows there won't be. Beckett and Castle are both too smart for that.

"Also, CSU have finished their initial report," he continues, handing over the file for her perusal.

"Anything that stands out?" she asks, flipping open the light cardboard and skimming down the first page.

"Take a look at the photos," Williams tells her.

Gates skips ahead to the photos paper-clipped together at the back of the report.

If she weren't so professional, her jaw would have dropped.

She'd told CSU to be thorough, leave no stone unturned. And, evidently they didn't.

There are shots from Beckett's bedroom- clothes thrown over chairs, not all of them feminine. There are pictures of Castle's bathroom- two toothbrushes sitting next to one another, makeup scattered across his countertop. And then there's the damning photos lifted from Castle's cell phone- a self-portrait snapped as he steals a surprise kiss from a brown-eyed, brown-haired woman.

There's no other explanation for what she sees.

Her detective, it seems, is in a long-term relationship with tag-a-log mystery novelist Richard Castle.

* * *

Lying on his back and hands tucked behind his head, Castle is staring absently at the ceiling when the bathroom door opens. He doesn't turn to look at Beckett, keeping his gaze firmly on the white wall above him. The bed dips ever so slightly underneath her weight, the sheets on top of him rustle as she slips beneath them. She slips across the sheets, curling up beside him, head pressed into the side of his chest and one hand resting over his heart.

He can't switch his mind off from the footage he'd seen on the television screen. His own photo… it's a betrayal by his city, yes, but he can deal with that. It's _Kate's_ photo on the screen beside his that squeezes his heart and rids his lungs of all air.

When he doesn't so much as blink to acknowledge Beckett, her whisper of a voice breaks the silence. "You're not still mad with me, are you?"

Yes. No. He doesn't know. He's mad, but it's not directed at her, but rather at Tyson, and this whole damned mess.

Even so, he remains silent, and so Beckett tries to persuade him the only way that's left. Throwing a leg over his hip, she leans down over him, lips stretching upwards to press open and hot and wet against his neck. His eyes flutter shut, because he _can't think_ when she's stretched atop him like this, hands roaming and lips so enticing. "Please forgive me for breaking you out," she whispers, voice hot and pleading at his ear. "Please forgive me, Castle."

He wants to. God, he wants to, but he can't stop thinking about what it's going to be like for her if they're found. Because, to Castle, this isn't about himself at all anymore- it's about _her_.

"I did this for you," she chokes out.

Heart tearing into two in his chest, Castle is torn.

On one side of the coin, he wants to argue that this isn't her. That Kate Beckett doesn't run and hide- she stands and fights.

On the other side, Castle knows that this _is_ her fighting. This is her fighting to keep him safe. This is her fighting to keep what they have. She's doing anything she has to, just to keep him, keep him alive.

And he loves her for it.

So he tugs her into his tight arms at the distress in her voice, crushing her to his chest. All he wants to do is fix this. "I know, Kate," he whispers. "I know."

Her hands slide along the side of his face, thumb rubbing in tight circles, open palms kissing his cheek as she turns his head. As his face angles towards hers, his eyes open once again, finding hers completely exposed staring back at him. "I love you," she breathes. "Please, Castle. I love you. I did this for you. I love you."

He can't do this. He can't stay mad, not when she's here, breaking him out of jail. Not when she's so completely exposed, unlike anything he's ever seen before. Not when she's here, just begging him to forgive her because all she wants is him, because she _loves _him.

It's all too much. Her words, her body- he can't hold back any longer.

Castle flips them, presses Beckett down into the mattress, pins her hands on the pillow above her head. She gasps at the sudden turn-around, eyes darkening. Her legs shift to wrap tight around his waist. Their lips are barely millimetres apart, their breaths hot as they mingle together, but he doesn't close the gap. Instead, Castle stares at her, searching her eyes for some sort of answer.

All he finds is love.

"Forgive me," Beckett begs softly. "Forgive me."

He does.

"I do," he whispers. "I do. I forgive you. I love you. _God_, Kate- I love you."

"I love you," she echoes.

She loves him. She _loves_ him.

And he loves her, so Castle gives her the note of gratitude she's so desperate to hear. "Thank you for getting me out," he tells her. "Thank you for keeping me alive. Thank you, Kate."

"I love you," is all she manages to breathe.

And he does too. So he proves it to her.

Repeatedly.


	5. Chapter 5

**Five**

* * *

Castle startles awake in the dead of the night. His eyes shoot open, desperate to be anywhere but his mind, but the absolute blackness of the room is overwhelming. He can't see, can't know where he is or what's around him, can't know what's about to happen.

He can't stop that night from replaying over and over in his mind. The night Jerry Tyson visited him, when he had nowhere to run. When he could do nothing but listen as Tyson told him every excruciating detail of his grand plan. Of exactly how he was going to die, exactly how Beckett was going to be punished in his absence. It's all so vivid, as if he's back there, reliving it but being able to change nothing.

It's a vice around his heart, squeezing and squeezing, the blood rushing to his head and overwhelming him. Chest constricting, he's unable to breathe, the shallow gasps doing nothing to slow the pounding in his chest. The room spins around him, taunting him, frightening him. He reaches for Kate on instinct, but stops himself, the look on her face as she sleeps too peaceful to break. So he falls out of the motel bed, thrusts his legs into his boxers as he stumbles across the room, clicks the bathroom door shut and collapses to the floor.

The tiles are ice cold, chilling his bones as he lies atop them. He pushes himself up and off the unforgiving floor, crawls into a ball against the wall. His thighs tuck flat against his chest and head drops to his knees as the wall supports him. Castle clenches his jaw in a vain attempt to stop the strangled sounds from escaping his throat, but it doesn't do any good. Instead, he shoves a fist in his mouth in a desperate attempt to muffle the sounds.

The reality that he's in the bathroom of some sleazy motel- miles and miles and miles from Manhattan and the jail cell that had awaited him there- does nothing to reassure him. The panic swirls in his mind, engulfs him, triggers his heart to thump in his chest. He was going to die. _He was going to die_, and there hadn't been anything he could have done. Whether he'd crawled into a corner and hid, or stood and fought, he would have met his fate. This is _Jerry Tyson_, and nothing can stop Tyson.

Suddenly, the door creaks. Castle jumps, his heart thundering now underneath his skin, as if it's about to burst out at any moment. He shrinks back, eyes wide as he strains to make out the dark shadow that approaches him. But with the short breaths he's inhaling, his vision is blacking, spots dancing in front of his eyes.

In the end, he doesn't need his sight. Kate's presence is distinct as she crouches beside him. She doesn't say anything, just snakes her arms around him, digs her fingers into his skin as she urges him into her embrace. He goes willingly, unable to keep himself upright any longer. Castle falls against her, head dropping to her shoulder, face mashed against her neck.

He shudders in her arms, eyes stinging with the salty tears he refuses to let fall. His own grip on her tightens and tightens until he's surely crushing her, but she doesn't protest. Just holds him, strokes his hair softly like a child, and lets her lips brush across his skin as she whispers reassurances.

"I'm here, Castle," she murmurs. "You're safe. I'm here. We're okay."

She repeats the words over and over again, on some never-ending loop. They flood into his mind, replacing the memory of Tyson. They cling to his heart comfortingly, help to ease the ice in his veins and the knot in his stomach.

Then he feels a single hot tear drip onto his hair. He tries to tilt his head back and angle it so he can glimpse at her, but her own hands are unwavering, refusing to let him be anywhere but the safety of her arms. The only thing he can do is press his open mouth to the crook of her neck where his head rests, hoping it's enough for her, because he knows her presence alone is enough for him.

* * *

Beckett is already awake when he wakes once again before daybreak. His mouth falls open against the pillow, groan ready in his throat in protest of the early hour, when nothing but a harsh, strangled sound rolls off his tongue. Last night's episode suddenly flashes through his mind. Memories of Tyson haunt him, plague him, swarm all too vivid in front of his eyes. The terror returns, gripping at his heart, and Castle chokes on the air in his lungs.

Beckett swiftly tugs him into her embrace, hands stroking and lips loving. "You're safe, Castle," she whispers, a repeat of her words from last night. "I'm here. You're safe."

He wishes that so much to be true, but he can't shake the lingering feeling of danger off his back. So when he doesn't speak, only looks over at Beckett with frightened eyes, she reassures him once again. Brings her lips to his, peels the clothes off his body, and proves it's just the two of them.

* * *

After another hour of _reassuring_, Beckett tells him it's time to hit the road. Castle holds back the instinctive groan that threatens to escape his lips at the thought of another long day of driving. Instead, he slides his hands down her bare back, across her stomach, attempting to persuade her to stay in bed just a little longer.

She doesn't give in. Beckett just chuckles a content laugh, runs her fingers through his hair as she pulls away from his arms ever so slightly.

"Got to keep moving," she murmurs before leaning in to press a kiss to his temple. Castle hums peacefully, dipping his head and squinting at her through one half-open eyelid. She's already peering at him with soft eyes, a satisfied smile on her face. When his other eye pops open a fraction too, she leans in, presses a lingering kiss to his lips.

Castle greets her mouth eagerly, snaking a hand around her neck. She gives in for just a moment longer, but then all too soon he feels Beckett pulling away yet again, a relaxed sigh floating off her lips as she does so.

"Come on, Castle. We should go."

After stealing another chaste kiss from her just because he can, Castle rolls over, throwing his feet off the bed and stumbling on shaky legs. Not ten minutes later are they already heading for the car, keeping their heads low and out of sight from peeping eyes. Blinking in the bright morning sun, Castle throws their single duffel bag in the backseat as Beckett drops the keys to the sleazy man behind the desk. Today, though, he jumps behind the wheel, bracing himself for the protest he's sure is coming when Beckett returns to the car.

But she doesn't even blink as she slips into the front passenger seat. Just reaches into the seat behind them to grab the stale muffins they'd bought at the gas station the previous night, so they wouldn't have to stop for breakfast. Castle takes the win, jamming the key into the ignition and feeling the old car grumble to life.

"You sure you don't want to stop and grab a coffee?" he asks her as they pull out of the driveway and onto the deserted road.

Beckett arches an eyebrow. "Do you really want to drink the sludge they sell at gas stations?"

"You used to drink it all the time before I bought the espresso machine for the precinct," he points out. Out of the corner of his eye, Castle sees her trying to suppress a smile.

"Just keep driving, Castle," she says, a tune of laughter in her voice as her left hand slinks over his knee.

* * *

Driving through the country is strangely peaceful. The radio crackles dull tones, a breeze billows through the half-open windows. It's almost as if they were simply on a road trip, rather than having the police hot on their trail because he's wanted for _murder_. The wide green fields, the thick clumps of orange and red trees, the puffs of fluffy clouds in the sky playing hide-and-seek with the sun- it's all too serene for the situation they're in.

Any tension from the previous day has evaporated, long gone instead of lingering around and causing trouble. They don't bring up his panic attack, but Beckett doesn't ignore it completely, either. She keeps shooting him sideways glances as they drive, studying him intently. When he finally has the nerve to acknowledge her, she sends him a smile that doesn't quite reach her eyes.

It's not getting him down, though. Castle can feel a new energy pulsing through his veins. He can feel _Beckett_ pulsing through his veins. She's given him the strength to forget about last night and move on. There's no telling what the darkness of tonight will bring, but for now, everything is looking bright.

She eventually catches onto his mood, becomes more free. Their hands roam, lips steal kisses, eyes catch each other's, sending silent messages through knowing looks. He loves it. So much, because he never thought he'd be able to do this- _them_- again.

And then the loud rumbling of his stomach fills the quiet car. Castle cringes, the muffins they'd eaten this morning obviously doing nothing to stave off his appetite.

Beckett simply chuckles. "Lunch time?"

"As long as it's not more stale food, I'm in."

She shakes her head apologetically. "Sorry, Castle, but we're not going to be stopping off for lobster ravioli any time soon."

"How about a diner?" he propositions. Surely a half run-down diner in the middle of nowhere can't be bad?

"We should fuel up," is what she says as she eyes the gage. "We can grab a couple of sandwiches from the gas station."

Fantastic.

* * *

Ryan arrives to the precinct at the crack of dawn the following morning. Stepping off the elevator and into what he thought would be a deserted bullpen, he's surprised to find the day-to-day bustle already picking up. People are on their phones and computers, or hunched over a stack of files, searching through the mound of tips regarding Castle and Beckett that will surely lead nowhere. A cop and a mystery writer? They're both too smart for this. There's no way they're still in the city, walking the streets in broad daylight in wait of someone to recognise them.

Dropping the Grande coffee cup on his desk, Ryan calls over his shoulder to Esposito. "They have any leads yet?" he asks.

Esposito scoots his chair across the old wooden floors and over to Ryan's desk. "Nothing. Everyone is saying something different. Which is all right for now- gives Beckett and Castle the chance to keep running- but sooner or later, if there's no progress, the Feds will roll in and take over."

Ryan cringes. The last thing they need is for someone else to take over the case. Someone with an actual desire to catch their friends.

"There is… _something_ they found, though," Esposito starts slowly.

Ryan arches an eyebrow impatiently, his eyes flicking quickly to the silver watch on his wrist. "What?"

There's a pause. "They know about Beckett and Castle. That they're… together."

Ryan's face falls. "How the hell do they know that?" he hisses.

"One of the techs pulled some photos of the two of them from Castle's phone."

Ryan curses under his breath. "That isn't good. We need to find something linking Tyson to this. _Now_."

"I know, bro, but how the hell are we supposed to find a ghost?" Esposito shakes his head. "I've been poring over Castle's statement, but there's nothing."

"You know, I was thinking about that," Ryan starts. "Castle has no alibi for the night of the murder."

Esposito nods.

"And he has no alibi for when he supposedly bought the jewellery, correct?"

Esposito nods again.

"And he paid for that jewellery with a cashier's cheque, after withdrawing the money from his account earlier that day."

"Are you on Castle's side or what?" Esposito questions, but Ryan quickly shushes him.

"But to _get_ a cashier's cheque, he would've had to physically go down to the bank and speak to someone himself. But- we never checked that surveillance footage."

Esposito raises an eyebrow. "Tyson already made it appear as if Castle was in the jewellery store. You don't think he would have been able to make it seem as if Castle was in the bank too?"

"We have to do _something_, Javi," Ryan stresses. "Castle is depending on us. Isn't it worth a shot?"

"All right," Esposito says with a nod. "Let's head down to the bank, check out the surveillance footage."

* * *

It happens when they stop.

They're at a gas station, the midday sun surprisingly harsh for the beginning of November as it shines down on them. As usual, Castle waits in the car. Head low underneath the baseball cap, he taps a staccato rhythm on the top arch of the wheel as Beckett gasses up the tank. He keeps one eye on her though, grinning when her reflection in the side mirror winks at him.

He doesn't see it coming. One moment, he's watching her hips sway as she heads inside the old shack of a station to pay. The next, she's sprinting out, diving into the passenger seat and shouting at him to hit the accelerator.

"Go! Go, now!" she shouts as she slams the door shut.

Castle's foot hits the pedal to the floor without so much as a pause. The old engine groans in protest as he forces the car forward, the tires squealing on the concrete and leaving black treads on the ground as they fly out of the driveway. He swerves out dangerously onto the road, but there's no traffic so he doesn't stop, just rights his car in the lane and pushes forwards.

"What happened?" he half-shouts at her, gripping the wheel as the car flies down the long stretch of highway.

"He recognised me," she forces out, throwing a glance over her shoulder at the road behind them. "I saw him trigger the silent alarm."

Shit.

Castle clenches his jaw and grips the wheel tighter, urging the car to go faster as his foot inches towards the floor. "What do we do?"

"Just keep driving. We'll take an exit- the second, not the first- and hope the police are far enough behind they don't catch us. Get lost in the town, change cars, and keep driving."

"And if we're driving _towards_ them?" he chokes out, eyeing Beckett with panicked eyes.

She presses her lips together. "Let's just hope it doesn't come to that."


	6. Chapter 6

**Six**

* * *

Castle's heart is pounding in his chest, no rhythm to the beat as it takes off like a bullet train. His fingers are closed tight around the wheel, but it isn't long before they start to slip, as perspiration from the panic tearing at his insides begins to seep from his pores. Drawing in another sharp breath, his eyes dart to the rear-view mirror, his ears straining out the open window, waiting for any sign they'll be found. But-

There's nothing.

No flashing lights, no piercing sirens. Nothing but the soft sounds of nature and the whipping of the breeze as they fly down the open stretch of road, fleeing from those hot on their trail.

"We need to ditch the car," Beckett says suddenly.

Castle snaps his neck around as she catches his attention. "You don't think they'll find it if we change it already?"

She nods. "We'll probably need to ditch it again in another few hours, but right now, it's not going to take them long to lift the plates from the security cam. The moment they broadcast the numbers to all units in the area, we become sitting ducks."

Castle presses his lips together, forces the comment to hold in his throat rather than start an argument. They don't have unlimited money, and fifty grand won't keep for long if they change cars three times a day.

He just hopes she has more of a plan to sustain them.

* * *

Ryan sighs, scrubbing his face with open palms when their latest lead turns to dust. "Five different cameras, and Castle managed to hide his face from every single one of them."

Esposito shoots him a look.

"Not Castle," Ryan corrects himself. "Just- you know. Tyson, or whoever the hell this is."

Esposito nods his agreement, rising from the seat where they've been viewing the security footage from Castle's bank. "Can you send a copy of this over to the Twelfth Precinct?" Esposito asks the security guard.

The man nods. "No problem."

"Appreciate it," Esposito offers, turning then to head back out to the main floor of the bank.

Ryan follows his partner's lead, leaving the security office and forcing himself not to shoot the guard a dirty look. "He's supposed to be security. You think he would have noticed someone acting suspiciously, keeping his head turned down."

"I know, bro," Esposito agrees. He shakes his head in frustration, exhales a long breath as he regathers himself. "I'm going to talk to the bank manager. See if he can give us the contact details for the teller who approved the cheque. Maybe she can give us a direction to work in."

* * *

"Thank you for coming down on your day off," Ryan smiles appreciatively to the woman, extending a hand to offer her a seat.

"Not a problem, dear," the old woman smiles back at him. She takes a seat slowly, placing her old brown purse on her lap and tucking a loose strand of silver hair behind her ear.

"We shouldn't take up too much of your time," Ryan continues as he takes a seat on the side of the table, rather than opposite like in interrogation. "Just have a few questions about a cashier's cheque you signed off on last week."

"Oh, you'll have to refresh my memory, dear. I'm afraid it isn't quite what it used to be, and I see hundreds of customers each day."

Ryan gives her a nod. "Last Tuesday, a man came into the bank. He spoke to you about obtaining a cashier's cheque for exactly twelve thousand, seven hundred and eighty dollars, which he paid for in cash."

The bank teller's face suddenly lights up as she nods with recognition. "Oh, yes. I do remember him. Polite fellow, but not overly friendly. Kept his head down a lot, didn't make any chit-chat."

"If we showed you some photos, do you think you might be able to pick him from an array?"

"I could certainly do my best," the teller smiled.

Ryan flipped open the thin cardboard folder in front of him and slid across the pre-made photo array of Castle and five other cops. "Do you see the man who ordered the cheque?"

The woman smiled at him apologetically as she slid on her glasses. Pressing her lips together, she studied the six faces carefully, before finally placing the sheet back down on the table. "No. I don't see him."

Ryan paused. "You don't see him?" he asked carefully.

"No, dear. He holds a little resemblance to this man-" she says as she points absently to Castle, "-but his features aren't quite right."

Ryan breathes a long sigh of relief. Finally, they have something to work with.

* * *

As he shows the woman to the elevator a few minutes later, Ryan throws his head, signalling to Esposito who's watching from his desk. His partner jumps up, switching off his monitor to keep his work hidden from prying eyes before meeting Ryan around the corner.

"She have something for us?" Esposito asks him.

Ryan gives a quick upward flick of his eyebrows. "She couldn't pick anyone from the photo array. Said the man looked a _little_ like Castle, but the features of his face weren't right."

"You think that's going to be enough for Gates? Enough for her to have the power to call off the manhunt?"

Ryan shakes his head. "No. _But_, if we could _prove_ Castle had an alibi for when he supposedly ordered this cheque, _that _might clear his name."

Esposito's eyes dart away, checking who is around before continuing. "That's great in theory, but how are we supposed to do that? We've got no way of contacting him."

"You know, I'm not so sure we don't," Ryan starts. "You really think Castle would take off without first talking to Alexis?"

"Yeah, I thought about that too," Esposito agrees with a nod. "But Gates was forced to bug Castle's apartment, tap Alexis' phone line, monitor her emails… there's no way they wouldn't have already caught it."

Ryan shoots him a look. "This is _Castle_. He escaped from lockup. You really he wouldn't have found a way to contact Alexis without the NYPD knowing?"

Esposito jams his thumb on the call button for the elevator. "I think it's time we paid Little Castle a visit."

* * *

Castle remains quiet as they drive away from the old car lot, the wheels kicking up dust as they leave yet another seedy man behind. Throwing another glare into the rear-view mirror, the rumble in his chest slowly grows quieter as the yard becomes a dot in the far distance behind them. He feels Beckett slide a hand onto his right knee, her fingers tracing a calming pattern on the inside of his lower thigh. Castle exhales a long breath, forcing the frustration out of his body before he sends her an appreciative smile.

Satisfied he's relaxed now, Beckett lifts her hand from his knee to fiddle with the radio. There's nothing but the crackle of static at first, but as she tunes it to the local stations, soft music fills the car. It's a relief from the silent tension they've been sitting in all morning, both too edgy after this morning's near miss to say much of anything to the other.

"How far do you think we'll need to drive today?" he asks her, his voice quiet over the dull tones floating from the old speakers.

"Till sundown, at least," she responds. "Maybe further if we can manage to keep driving, but there's no point in wearing ourselves out. Better to find a place to rest for the night, start afresh early in the morning."

Castle nods, his eyes wandering down to the dash as she speaks. "The jerry can from the car yard didn't do much for the tank. We're going to need to stop for gas soon. You think we'll be right?"

The pause she leaves is too long, the _should be_ that she offers him not quite reassuring. Castle sighs, mind drifting to all the possible scenarios this mess could play out.

They could live their entire lives on the run, always throwing glances back over their shoulders, never quite safe.

They could be arrested, taken to court, imprisoned.

They could end up _dead_.

He grimaces. The way they're heading now, this isn't going to end well.

"We need a plan to get us out of this," he breaks their silence suddenly.

Beckett arches an eyebrow. "I'm sorry?"

"We need to find evidence linking Jerry Tyson to everything," he explains. "Kate, we can't run forever. Someone is going to recognise us sooner or later."

"People will stop caring, Castle. This isn't forever. It's just… for now."

"And then what? When people stop caring about us- when the six o'clock news doesn't have our faces plastered all over it, when our names aren't the headlines on the front page of the paper… what happens then? Our entire lives are in New York. Your father, my mother- my _daughter_, Kate. I can't leave Alexis behind. I- I can't."

She shushes him, her whispers soothing, fingers reassuring as they close over his on the top arch of the wheel. "I understand what you're saying, Castle. But how are we supposed to find anything without police resources? We aren't even in Manhattan anymore. All we can do is come up with theories that we can't follow up on.

"We need a way to contact the boys," Castle suggests. "They can help us. You know they will."

"Yeah. That's an idea, but how are we supposed to do that?" Beckett questions him. "The only means of communication we've got is the burner cell I slipped Alexis."

Castle shakes his head. "No. Alexis stays out of this," he speaks sharply. "There has to be another way."

"Castle, we don't know what's happening in New York. The boys could be suspended for all we know, suspected of helping you escape. If _that's_ the case, contacting them will only lead to more trouble."

"And what if _Tyson_ causes more trouble? What if we're thousands of miles away, across the country, and Tyson decides to try something else?"

His eyes leave the road then, wide and worried as they swivel over to hers. Beckett meets his gaze, hers reassuring as she gives his hand a squeeze. "Tyson won't hurt your family, Castle," she speaks softly, knowing exactly what's on his mind. "He's already caused enough trouble. He'll disappear."

"He won't if he wants revenge," Castle argues.

Beckett shakes her head. "He doesn't want to risk being caught."

"Then why do this, Kate? Why do _any_ of this if all he wants is to disappear? There were no good leads on his whereabouts for _two years_. He'd already disappeared."

"I don't know," she admits on a defeated sigh. "I don't know why he's doing this. Why he's bothered to come back and put you through all of this."

There's a long pause before his low voice cuts through the car. "We should be back in New York, helping them."

"You'd be dead," she chokes out, a harsh, strangled sound leaving her throat. "Castle, I can't have this fight again. Please. You'd be dead. I- I can't."

He stops the car then, swerving it off the road to half-hide in a clump of trees. When he shifts the car into park, he turns back to Beckett to find her eyes wide and shining with unshed tears.

"Please don't blame me for doing this," she whispers.

Castle shakes his head. "No. No, I don't. Not at all," he promises.

"I'll figure something out, Castle," she swears. "I will."

He lowers his head, ashamed for shifting the blame once again onto her. "I'm sorry, Kate," he apologies softly.

Beckett nods slowly, digs her front tooth into her lower lip. Reaching out, she laces her fingers with his, lifting it to her chest to hold their hands close to her heart. He can feel it pounding on her skin, as if it'll jump right out of her chest at any moment. Not letting his face fall, he sends her an assuring smile.

"We'll figure this out," he promises her as he gives her hand a reassuring squeeze. "Together."

* * *

They throw theories between them for the rest of the afternoon, trying to figure out a way to beat Tyson at this game he's playing.

Where he might be hiding.

Who he might be using as a partner.

What he might be planning next.

In the end, they don't come up with a lot. Most of their ideas have gaping holes in them, ones Tyson would never make in the fear of being caught. He's not their usual run-of-the-mill murderer. He's clever. Thoughtful. Plans everything out, all contingencies, down to the last minute detail.

So by the time they stop for the night, somewhere in the middle of Kentucky after changing their course to throw off whoever is chasing them, they're drained. They fall into a silence as they head for their run-down room, the door creaking on its rusting hinges, the dust swirling up off the carpet as they pad through the room. Castle grimaces, but says nothing. Just offers Beckett the first shower, as she did to him last night.

When she disappears behind the wooden door, the pipes loud as they open and gurgle with the flow of water, he pulls back the ageing duvet and drops down onto the sheets. With their duffel bag at his feet, he beings to count how much cash they have left after purchasing three cars. Castle is just about done when the bathroom door suddenly flies open, the water still running inside the other room and Beckett's soaking and soapy hair dripping over her shoulders as she clutches the thin towel around her wet body.

"What if we're looking at this wrong?" Beckett asks him.

Castle arches a confused eyebrow. "I'm sorry?"

"We can't find a flaw in Tyson's plan, right?"

Castle nods.

"So, why don't we find a flaw in_ your_ routine?"

He frowns. "I'm not following."

Beckett exhales a puff of air as she takes a few steps towards him. "Think about it. The night of the murder, we were supposed to spend the night together, but in the end our plans fell through because you had to write. Tyson would have been waiting for the perfect moment to act, and then when you changed your mind on our evening, it opened a widow for him to strike. But we _know_ Tyson likes to plan. What if he had a plan, and something in _your_ routine came up. It would ruin his plan."

"Kate, I'm still not following."

She shushes him with a look. "What I'm saying is- what if something came up? What if you suddenly decided to head to the dry cleaners instead of staying home? What if Tyson didn't _know_ that, and acted anyway? You'd have an alibi, Castle. There might be someone who would have seen you, someone who can vouch for you, someone who can _clear your name_."

As wide as they are, Castle's eyes become vacant as he plays Beckett's words over in his mind.

_He'd have an alibi_.

A soft palm pressing against his cheek draws his attention back. Castle lifts his head from where he didn't even realise it had fallen, refocusing his gaze on Beckett. She's right in front of him now, one hand against his cheek and a smile on her face as her fingers sweep over his skin.

"All we have to do is find an alibi for something other than the murder- for the jewellery store, or the bank- and you'll be free," Beckett murmurs.

A hopeful grin breaking out on his face, Castle draws her into an embrace. "Kate, you've done it. I- thank you," he whispers sincerely.

She just smiles, drops her lips to his, and lets the towel fall from around her body. His fingertips are set alight as they brush over her bare skin, his eyes falling down from her face to roam over her unashamedly until Beckett lifts his chin to slant her lips over his.

They'll figure out an alibi in the morning. Right now- this.


	7. Chapter 7

**Seven**

* * *

Castle jerks awake again that night, memories of the too-real dream still haunting his mind.

Tyson. Again. His face plagues Castle, over and over again. The threats against his life- against his family, against Beckett- suck him down into a whirlpool, spinning, dizzying, the sun disappearing far above him to leave only the suffocating blackness of the ocean floor. His muscles are rigid, paralysed with fear, eyes wide and desperate but he _can't move_. He can't push himself up. Can't emerge above the surface from deep down below. Can't run or hide from the gripping terror. Can't find Kate.

"Kate," he chokes out, his throat closing in on itself. He gasps, desperate for air, blinks away the blackness that threatens to overwhelm him. "Kate-"

She's already there, hovering over him, lips pressing against his temple to whisper soothing words against his skin. Her hands find his and she links their fingers together, moves one of their joined hands over his heart as the other shifts to hers. Their rhythms don't match. His own heart pounds erratically beneath his skin, trying to burst from its cage. Hers beats at a steady pace, a few skips here and there as her eyes scan over the lines of his body with worry, but it's nothing like his. She doesn't have the cutting panic coursing through her veins.

"Shh," she murmurs, her lips warm and soft as they move against his forehead. "I'm here. We're safe."

The fingers of her left hand untangle from his, her open palm pressing his hand against her heart, urging him to keep it there when her own falls. He does, and her pulse is soothing. The rush of blood through her veins steadies him back into reality.

Now free, her hand sweeps across his sweaty skin. She smooths out the creases on his brow, trails her fingers down the side of his face, swipes a tender thumb across his parted lips that won't stop sucking desperate air into his lungs.

"Castle, it's okay," she whispers, pushing back the sweaty hair off his clammy forehead. "We're okay. We're safe."

He wishes so much to believe her, but there's a nagging tug at his heart that just won't let go.

* * *

Beckett is already awake when Castle stirs the following morning. Skimming his fingers across the sheets in search of her, the tips come into contact with soft wool. He scrunches the fabric between his hands, earning a light, discouraging swat from her. Letting out a sigh as he drops her shirt from between his fingers, Castle angles his head upwards so he can glimpse at her through bleary eyes.

She's already dressed, one jean-covered leg thrown over the other as she sits up beside him, her back pressing up against the headboard and legs stretched out along the length of the bed. As he'd felt, she wears a deep purple sweater, the one that brings out the flecks of green in her eyes. Her long and curly hair is scrunched back into a loose bun, a few tendrils that won't sweep back falling over her face. The hand she'd used to slap his strokes his hair gently, a contrast to the scolding he'd received just moments before. Now, her eyes are focused down on him, but he can hear the dull tones of the television in the background, signalling what she's been doing as he's slept.

"Time?" he mumbles, voice straining with sleep.

"A little after six," she responds softly, eyes returning the TV once again. As they shift, he can see the concern still flickering in them from the night before, but if she's not going to bring up his nightmares, neither is he.

Castle exhales a long breath, pushing up onto an elbow to glimpse at the screen. The morning news is on, broadcast across the entire country. If their faces were to be anywhere, this will be the channel.

"Anything new?" he asks, knuckles rubbing harsh against his eyelids, trying to scrub away the last remnants of sleep.

Beckett shakes her head. "Nothing yet. Maybe at seven, once more people are awake. Reach as many viewers as they can."

"Are we hanging around that long?" he questions.

Again, she shakes her head. "No. We should head out soon," she tells him. "We can always tune into the news from the car."

If the car can even tune to the right frequency. Unlikely.

"I'll get dressed then," he murmurs. Castle is half-twisted away to slide off the edge of the bed when her fingers suddenly snag his elbow. Castle pauses.

"Where do you think Alexis would be right now?" Beckett asks him quietly.

He shoots her a harsh look. "I already told you- Alexis stays out of this."

"No," she quickly interrupts. "Not to reach the boys. I just- I thought you might want to call her. Check in, let her know you're okay."

The firm expression that had quickly taken over his face falls, his muscles relaxing once again. "I- are you sure?"

Beckett gives a small nod, her fingertips swirling against his skin. "It's why I slipped her the phone, Castle. So you'd be able to contact her," she assures him. "It's safest for us to contact her in the morning, just before we start driving again. So if you want to dress, I'll switch on the phone ready for you."

* * *

"You really think he'll ring?" Esposito hisses at him.

Ryan forces down the frustrated growl that threatens to vibrate up his throat. "Yes," he responds through gritted teeth. "Alexis said he hasn't called her since they first made a run for it. It's been two days now. He'll call."

"Are you-"

"_Yes_, I'm sure. It's his daughter," Ryan insists. "Castle will call."

There's a long pause. "Don't you think we should have kept Alexis around to answer?"

Ryan blows out a long breath, the irritation bubbling through his veins. "Since when did you become the one with no faith?"

"Since you're the one who made the plan," Esposito shoots back.

Ryan glances down at the out-dated cell phone in his hands, checking once again whether they have signal. They're down the street from the precinct, hidden away in some dirty alley to ensure no one catches them with the phone. It's the only means they have of contacting Castle and Beckett- one that took almost an hour of persuading Alexis to admit she had it, let alone hand over to them.

Esposito turns his wrist, shaking his head at the time on his watch. "Bro, it's not going to-"

The words die on Esposito's lips when the phone suddenly chimes to life, vibrating across Ryan's open palm. The boys exchange a look, and Ryan nods at Esposito.

This is the only chance they have.

* * *

When the line clicks on, there's nothing but silence. Castle waits it out for a few beats, wondering whether the dated phones take a moment to connect.

Then the voice sounds across the line, so much deeper than his daughter's innocent tone.

"Don't hang up," Ryan speaks quickly. "Just hear us out."

Castle's face falls instantly, eyes wide as they flick up to Beckett's. Her brow creases in confusion for only a moment before realisation spreads across her face.

"Give it to me," she hisses, lunging for the phone in his hand that he's desperately trying to hang up.

"No-"

"Castle, if the boys already have the phone, there's a reason," she tells him. Her fingers close around the keypad, protecting the call-end button.

He growls at her, not even bothering to hide the accusation in his tone. "You set this up."

She shakes her head. "No. I didn't. Alexis must have given it to them," she insists.

Castle snatches the phone with force from her grasp then. Insistent fingers dig into his thighs, her mouth parting with a protest that's surely on the tip of her tongue, when Castle suddenly lifts the cell to his ear.

"How'd you get this phone?" he demands.

Her grip on his thighs loosen, her body shifting so she can press her ear up against the phone and listen in on the call.

"Alexis is fine," Ryan insists quickly. "But we needed to contact you, and we _knew_ there was no way in hell you'd leave without having some means of contacting Alexis, so-"

"What? You ambushed her?"

Beside him, Beckett scoffs. "Castle, would you calm down? They wouldn't ambush your daughter." She rolls her eyes at him, but covers his knee with an open palm. "And right now, we're wasting time we don't have."

He sighs, conceding. "Yeah. Okay."

"Trouble in paradise?" Esposito's teasing voice sing-songs across the line.

Beckett growls at the boys. "Shut up."

"So, you don't want to hear our plan to get you guys out of this?" Ryan says in a smug tone.

There's a pause. "What have you found?" Castle asks, a light hopefulness now lacing his voice.

"First of all, the security footage from the bank was a bust," Esposito explains.

"_But_," Ryan continues swiftly before anyone can interject, "The teller Castle supposedly spoke to about the cashier's cheque couldn't pick him out of a photo array. Said you _weren't_ the man she spoke with last Tuesday."

Castle heart skips a beat. "What does that mean?"

"It's not enough right now, but if we're able to pair it with something a little more solid- like an alibi- Gates might be able to present it to the D.A., see if she'll drop the case against you."

"We've been thinking along the same lines," Beckett pipes up. "There's no doubt Castle doesn't have an alibi for the murder, but maybe he has an alibi for something else- like when he was supposedly at the bank."

"But we went over that," Castle interrupts. "I didn't leave the house on Tuesday, and both the bank _and_ the jewellery store purchase occurred on that same day. After my mother left the loft at eight, there's no one to corroborate my alibi.

Suddenly, Beckett slaps a hand against his thigh, mouth parted and eyes wide. "But then Tyson had to _give_ Tessa the jewellery," she breathes.

Everything hits him all at once, a grin curling up his lips and lifting his cheeks. "Tessa's roommate mentioned how Tessa would often go out to dinner with her mystery man-"

Beckett nods. "So he may have given her the bracelet one night at dinner-"

"-and there were only a handful of evenings before Friday night-"

"-but I spent every one of those with you-"

"-so unless he gave it to her the night of the murder-"

"-I'd have an alibi," Castle finished on a long breath.

At that, he forgets about the phone pressed against his ear. He forgets the boys can hear everything that happens over the line. He forgets there's leads to be tracked down, his alibi to be solidified. He forgets they need to disconnect the call as soon as possible, and jump back in the car. He forgets all of it, and just tackles Beckett, pins her down to the mattress with his body.

Because thanks to her, they're going to get out of this mess, and she really should be thanked properly.

* * *

Castle calls the boys again from the road, ignoring their groans of disgust the moment the line clicks on and getting straight to the point of his alibi.

"We'll check in with Tessa's roommate again," Ryan assures him, his voice crackling as he talks on speakerphone. "She was out of town, but she might be able to pinpoint what nights Tessa usually went our for dinner, or where she may have gone."

"Any night, it doesn't matter. Kate and I- we spent every night together before Fri-"

Castle cuts himself off, a thought flittering into his mind. When he doesn't speak, both Ryan and Beckett pipe up. "What?"

"Tuesday night," he starts slowly. His voice is quiet and distant, but he angles his head toward Beckett. "I wasn't supposed to see you. I was supposed to write, remember?"

Castle drops his free hand to nudge her knee as she drives, urging the memory to the forefront of her mind. There's a long beat of silence, Beckett's eyes darting almost imperceptibly from side to side as she searches her memory of the previous week. He sees the second everything clicks, her eyes lighting up in recollection.

"You were writing all day," she realises. "You were writing all day, and that's why you didn't come into the precinct. That's why you have no alibi for the bank, or the jewellery store. And you were going to write all night, too, but at the last minute-"

"You came over and surprised me," he breathes.

The car swerves into the other lane as Beckett snatches the phone from his grasp without warning. Despite the empty country road, Castle's heart lurches at the unsteady motion.

"Hey!" he cries, but she shoots him a look to silence him.

"Ryan," she orders, holding up the cell phone in front of her mouth as she speaks. "Tuesday night. Track Tessa's every movement. If Tyson thought Castle would be home alone with no alibi, he might have shown his face somewhere."

"All right," Ryan's response sounds from the speakers. "We'll start with that."

Before either Beckett or Ryan can disconnect the call, Castle pries the cell phone from Beckett's hand. "Ryan, if you're going to keep the phone… can you pass along message to Alexis for me?" he requests on a shaky breath. "Just- tell her we're all right. That I love her, and I'll see her soon."

He knows Ryan is nodding across the other end of the line. "Yeah. Of course," he agrees without hesitation. "Keep safe, you two."

With that, they're alone in the silence of the car once again, nothing to do but keep driving down the endless freeway.

* * *

With the realisation his innocence might not be far away, Castle refuses to travel any further across the country. Says two full days of driving away from New York is already too far. So despite Beckett's protests (and probably her better judgement), she agrees not put any greater distance between them and the city. In a compromise, they don't drive back in a straight line, instead changing their route to throw their trail. Now, they head southeast as they drive toward North Carolina, the plan being to head back up towards New York the moment their names are cleared.

They stop for an early lunch in Knoxville. Actually _stop_. Castle manages to convince Beckett to pull over at a diner on the outskirts of town. The bell above the door chiming as they enter, he keeps his head low, tucked away underneath the hood of the baseball cap she brought him. Her own hair is knotted into a messy bun behind her head, the best she can do for now. It's subtle, but effective. At least, it would be if she didn't keep shooting glances around the diner, surely doubting their safety after yesterday's near miss. Without pause, Castle shifts in his seat, scooting out of his side of the booth so he can slide in beside her. She shoots him a look, but he ignores it, pressing up against her and resting a reassuring hand on his knee.

"We'd look less suspicious if you'd stop glance around the room every ten seconds," he murmurs, thumb rubbing in soothing circles on the inside of her leg.

Beckett sighs and relaxes against him, curling the fingers of one hand around his elbow. "Just being careful."

"There are only two ways in- the front door, or through the kitchen. Both are clearly visible if you keep your head at a slight angle," he tells her. "Just pretend your staring at me. I _am_ irresistible, after all."

He should have expected the pinch of her nails to the soft skin on the inside of his elbow.

Wearing a classic diner uniform, the older waitress brings their meals then- two burgers and two chocolate shakes. Stomach rumbling, Castle goes straight for the fries on the side of his plate, stuffing a handful of the scalding hot sticks into his mouth. It earns him an eye roll, but he simply shrugs and dips another fry into his shake. It's the closest thing to real food they've had in days, and it's _good_.

He's halfway through shoving the burger down his throat when he notices it.

"Kate, everyone is leaving," he murmurs. He digs his teeth into another large bite of his burger to act as if nothing is out of the ordinary.

Beckett hums her acknowledgement, casually popping another fry into her mouth before turning to face him square on. Her hands lift to tip his cap off the side of his head, and she pretends to sweep at something in his hair.

"Yeah," she responds quietly as she returns her attention to her food. "I think- I think we've been made."

The diner is half-empty now, all the original patrons leaving when the waitress clears their still-full plates. There are a handful of new diners now, though, all studying menus, but they're too suspicious.

Cops.

"They're clearing out the place to take us down," he chokes out. "Kate-"

She shushes him, places a hand on his knee. "The moment we try and run, they'll turn on us. The less cops in here, the better for us. We should act now."

"But the civilians-"

"Will be fine," she assures him. "Scared, but fine. The cops won't shoot while they're still in the room."

Shoot.

Oh, God.

Beside him, Beckett takes another small bite of her burger, swallowing the chunk in one gulp without chewing. "On my mark, we'll make a break for the front doo-"

"The front door?" he hisses. "Why not out the back?"

"Because they'll have the back surrounded," she responds, fingers digging into his thigh in a warning to keep calm. "Look out the front windows. Nothing. They know we can see out there, so they can't risk a sudden flood of squad cars in the area."

Castle sucks in a sharp breath, one that does nothing to stop the pounding of his heart. "Right. So- say we get out the front door. Where do we go?"

"The car," she tells him. "This is why I told you to leave the doors unlocked. We'll jump straight in and hit the accelerator."

"And if they start shooting?" he rasps.

Beckett pauses. "Duck."

His heart lurches high in his throat then, lodging itself so he can't swallow it. Beckett offers him a smile, squeezes his leg gently, and leans in for a long kiss.

"I love you," she murmurs.

Castle forces his lungs to exhale. His breath is shaky, but he manages. "I love you," he repeats her words.

With her eyes still trained on his, she shifts back slightly in her seat. Castle does the same, angling his body away from hers and digging his heels into the ground, ready to push off and run.

"You ready?" she asks him.

No.

He nods anyway.

"On the count of three," she murmurs. "One."

"Two," he offers.

They both take a long breath.

"Three."


	8. Chapter 8

**Eight**

* * *

The moment Castle dives out of the booth and darts towards the door, the cops in the room fly into action. They swivel around, take aim with their weapons. Their shouts bounce loud off the striped red and white walls of the diner, echo in his ear.

"Police! Freeze!"

He doesn't.

Castle feels an insistent hand against his back, urging him onward. Beckett shouts behind him to _move_, and he does, forcing one foot in front of the other as he crashes through the swinging glass door. Hearing the shouts of backup from somewhere behind the diner, he doesn't stop on the sidewalk. Just takes another planned leap toward the car, desperate to get _out of here_.

Then he stumbles on the edge of the gutter. His ankle twists, and unable to correct his misstep, his body hurtles towards the ground. But Beckett is already behind him, pushing him forward so he slams into the side of the car instead of the unforgiving bitumen beneath his feet. It only takes him another moment to regain his footing and fumble through the unlocked door of the car.

Then the first shot is fired.

Even after all the years he's spent following Beckett and the countless gunfights they've been in, the gunshot is terrifying, especially now he's on the wrong side of the gun. The bullet exits the chamber with a loud crack, spinning through the air to pierce their back windscreen. The glass shatters, flies into the backseat, but the jagged shards don't reach them.

Yet.

Another round of shots follow, no longer just one gun. The windows on all four sides shatter as the car is riddled with bullets. The sounds are terrifying- the metal crunching as the bullets wedge in the car, or a high-pitched pinging as they bounce of doors- and force his heart to leap up into his throat.

"Kate-"

"Duck, Castle!"

He complies without hesitation, shielding himself below the dashboard. His hand reaches out to snag at her sweater, trying to urge her to take cover along with him. Beckett shakes him off, slams the key into the ignition, grips the gearstick and throws the car into drive before slamming the accelerator to the floor. The tyres squeal against the road, the engine protesting with a loud grumble as it's forced to life, but the car jumps forward. Takes off out of the parking lot, swerves onto the road, and disappears in the traffic.

Castle can hear the shouts of the police behind them, the screech of the tires on the tar signalling the pursuit is about to begin. The whirl of sirens is unmistakable, amplified through the air with the force that's bearing down on them. It fires a shot of adrenaline through his veins, which hits his pounding heart hard and causes the muscles to seize. He sucks in what is supposed to be a deep breath and tries to clear his head before he lifts his head to glance out the shattered windscreen.

A glance at Beckett eases him, makes him feel safe. Fierce hands grip the wheel, her eyes unblinking as she keeps focus on the road. The car swerves in and out of the light traffic with the expertise of a trained pursuit driver, matching (and probably surpassing) the skills of those chasing them. It gives them an advantage, allows them to put distance between themselves and the diner before the cops even have a chance of jumping into their vehicles.

She's going to get them out of this.

Suddenly, she throws a sharp right. The car swings around the corner, tosses him to the side with the force of the motion. Castle presses his lips together, thinking she's attempting to lose themselves somewhere in the town (as if it will even help when their windows are all shattered and the doors are pierced with bullet holes), but then she takes _another_ right, and suddenly they're heading _back_ in the general direction they came.

"What are you doing?" he hisses, eyes wide and darting around the road for any hint of the police.

"Losing our tails," she responds without so much as a glance in his direction. "They _saw_ the direction we were heading. They won't expect us to backtrack and head in the opposite route."

The car urges forward then as Beckett eases her foot down a little more on the accelerator. Castle feels the metal frame of the old car shake as it's forced onward, the seat vibrating beneath him at the effort it's taking the engine to keep ticking over. His fingers dig into the torn fabric seats, willing some of the tension out of his body. And when Beckett takes a quick left, Castle can't stop his eyes from shifting off the road in front of them and onto her.

He doesn't like what he finds.

There's a large cut down the side of her cheek from where a shard of window glass has sliced through her smooth skin. He thinks it's shallow, the blood not gushing out, but it's deep enough to leave a bright red smear along her face.

"Kate, you're bleeding," he rasps out. The fingertips of his left hand reach for her, but Castle stops himself mid-air. He can't move her head to inspect the wound. All her attention is needed for the road ahead of them.

"It's nothing," Beckett shakes him off. "Just stings a little. We can-"

The moment she twists her head to talk to him, the blood drains from her face. It leaves her cheeks a ghostly white, nothing but absolute horror left in her eyes.

"What?" he questions.

"You-" Her voice chokes off, so she sucks in a deep breath, eyes wide as they remain trained on his body. "Castle, you're hit."

* * *

In a state of shock, Castle simply blinks down at himself, a disbelieving frown almost creasing his face when he spots the evidence that he has, in fact, been shot. The bullet has pierced through the side of his shoulder, exited the other side to leave a clean wound. His shirt is torn and bloody around the hole the bullet has left, the sticky blood clinging the fabric to his skin. As he stares at his body rattled with the wound, Castle doesn't know how he didn't notice it before.

Now it's been brought to his attention, though, he can't notice anything else.

With no pressure on the wound, the blood rushes out of him. It leaves him faint, dizzy, a combination of the blood he's loosing and the knowledge _he's_ the one who has been hit. A lack of feeling quickly morphs into a dull ache, which worsens to a sharp piercing within seconds. Clenching his jaw, Castle muffles the shout of pain in his throat, but Beckett notices it all the same.

"Castle-"

"Keep driving," he chokes out. She opens her mouth to protest, but when Castle squeezes his eyes shut to black out the red hot flash of pain in his shoulder, she keeps silent.

He doubles over on himself, not that it does him any good. The shot is to his shoulder, not his stomach, but there's a mentality that the action does something to ease the pain, and he'll take what he can get. Through gritted teeth, he sucks in a shallow breath of air, exhaling it shakily from his lungs a moment later. The first breath doesn't take away the pain, nor does the second, or fifth, but it helps settle him into a mindset where being shot doesn't seem quite so terrifying.

When he finally opens his eyes, Castle finds Beckett staring wide-eyed and terrified at him. "I'm sorry," she chokes out. "I'm- God, Castle, I'm sorry."

"Not your fault," he forces out.

"But-"

"Not your fault," he repeats, voice a little more stern this time. It's not her fault. It's really not. It's the fault of the idiotic cop who shot an innocent man who's been framed for murder because Jerry Tyson has some twisted idea of a game.

"You need- you need medical attention," she rasps.

Castle shakes his head. "No. It's not that bad."

His words do nothing to convince her. "Castle-"

"Kate, we both know the first thing any doctor will do is report the shooting to the police. It's the law."

This time, Beckett shakes her head. "No, it's not. Their first point of call is to treat the injury," she corrects him. "Do you know how many times I arrived as a uniform to the hospital to take the statement of some idiot who shot himself with his own weapon, only to find they had already taken off? As a doctor, their primary responsibility is to the patient, not the police."

Castle's forehead creases with a disbelieving frown. "What are you saying? That we waltz into the hospital, have them treat my shoulder, and try to make a run for it?" He snorts at the idea, but Beckett is deadly serious.

"That's exactly what I'm saying," she says all too coolly.

His face falls. "Absolutely not. No way. Too risky. I'm not going to have you arrested over this."

"You don't have a choice. You need treatment. _Now_. I- I can't risk your life anymore. You have to be all right."

"But Kate-"

"But nothing," she interrupts. Her voice is strict, but she rests a gentle hand on his knee and sends him a reassuring look. "We're going to the hospital. End of story."

Castle doesn't argue any further. There's no point. He can see Beckett's mind is already set on him receiving medical attention, and even though he knows it's what _he_ needs, it's the worst possible scenario for _them_. Especially if the police already know he's been hit. Their faces will be sent out to all hospitals in the area, the police just waiting for them to show.

He exhales a long breath and leans back into his seat. He can't think like that. He needs to stay positive.

"You know, there is a plus side to this," he chokes out a chuckle.

Beckett is clearly not amused, but she somehow finds it in herself to entertain him, arching an eyebrow in his direction. He grins a painful smile at her and waggles his eyebrows as he continues.

"I'm going to have a cool scar."


	9. Chapter 9

**Nine**

* * *

Ryan knocks on Tessa's neighbour's door, flipping open his notepad and holding up his badge as he waits. Through the wood, he can hear someone shuffling around inside, the lock rattling on its chain before the door swings open.

The detective smiles politely at Tessa's neighbour. "Sorry to bother you again, Mister Canter, but I just have a few more questions about Tessa."

The man nods politely, opens the door for Ryan to enter. The detective stands patiently in the entranceway as Canter closes the door behind him, waiting until he's offered a seat at the dining table to move further into the apartment.

Canter takes a seat opposite, folds his hands together atop the table. "So, what can I do for you?"

Ryan digs in his pocket for a pen, clicking the top and putting the tip to paper as he speaks. "I was wondering if you could tell me anything about Tessa's movement each night last week. Tuesday in particular, if you remember."

"Her movements?"

Ryan nods. "Do you happen to know whether she had any visitors? Or perhaps what time she may have left the apartment in the evening?"

The man pauses, eyes drifting as he scans back over the week in his mind. "Tuesday… I was out all day on Tuesday, I'm sorry. Long meetings at the office, international phone calls… I didn't get home till almost eleven."

Ryan presses his lips together, holds back the frustration that bubbles inside.

"Oh- wait," the man says suddenly. Ryan flicks up his eyebrows expectantly. "I caught the elevator up with Tessa that night."

Ryan leans forward in anticipation. "Is there anything else you can tell me? Was a man with her? Did she carry anything? Was she wearing any jewellery?"

The man shrugs apologetically. "Even if she was wearing jewellery, I would never have noticed it, but I _can_ tell you there was no man with her. No one walked her home either. She just came straight inside, ran for the elevator. I remember because I had to hit the door open button so she could catch a ride up."

Ryan blows out a disappointed breath. "How was she dressed? As if she'd been at work, or…"

"No, no. She looked as if she'd been out on a date. Hair curled, dark lipstick, nice dress."

"And you didn't catch where she might have been?"

Canter shakes his head. "No, sorry. I remember assuming the date didn't go very well. She was carrying leftovers, like she'd planned on coming straight home from the restaurant."

"Any chance you caught the name of the restaurant on the side of the bag?"

"Just a plain white plastic bag," the man shrugs apologetically. "Sorry."

* * *

Beckett parks the car in an alley across from the hospital. It's a small town, so the alleyway doesn't _really_ conceal anything, but it's better than nothing. Even so, when she clicks the engine off and tugs out the key, neither of them move.

"You need medical attention," she repeats.

It's all she's been saying, in between cries of _I'm sorry_. Every time she speaks, it hits Castle all over again, the situation they're currently in. The one they might soon find themselves in.

"You-"

"I know," Castle cuts her off. He doesn't want to make her say it again, not when she's so obviously terrified of what could happen when they cross the door into the hospital.

"I'm sorry," she whispers.

"I'm not," he states. When she doesn't look over at him, Castle lifts his non-injured hand to curl a finger under her chin, gently easing her head around to look at him. "Kate, even if something happens, even if I'm taken into custody… you gave me these last few days with you. I- I'm so thankful. _So_ thankful, Kate."

Beckett lifts the corners of her mouth into a weak smile. Sweeping back a lock of hair that's fallen loose from her bun, Castle tucks it behind her ear before dropping his hand to clutch at hers.

"Will you wait here?" he whispers. Immediately, he sees the protest flash in her eyes, so he quickly interjects. "Please. I- if something happens, I can't live knowing it'll be because of me."

With sad eyes, Beckett shakes her head. "No. Not breaking us apart now, Castle. Not after everything we've been through."

Castle exhales a defeated breath, pushes down the frustration that threatens to surface at her stubbornness. He knows she's right. He knows they should stay together.

But he doesn't want anything to happen to her.

* * *

They stand press against the edges of the hospital's wall as they enter, shrinking back in the shadows as if trying to make themselves invisible. People pass by them without a second glance- patients, families, even nurses. They all bustle by, not casting a look at the two people whose eyes are so wide with fear.

"I think we're okay," Beckett whispers to him. The grip her fingers have on his elbow slacken just a fraction as they cast another glance around the waiting room, trying to spot any undercover cops waiting for them.

"I'll get some help," she says, but Castle doesn't let her take so much as a step before he's circling an arm around her waist to halt her movement.

"No," he objects. "I'll go. Less chance you'll be remembered-"

If something were to happen to him.

Beckett clamps her lips together, surely holding back an argument. She doesn't protest, though. Just sinks down into a chair on the end of the row as if ready for a quick getaway while he takes a careful step toward the desk.

"Can I help you?" the old bat behind the counter croaks at him when he approaches.

"Uh- yes," the words stumble ineloquently out of his mouth. "I need to see a doctor."

When he nods down at his shoulder, the nurse's eyes widen with sudden shock. "Come with me," she says as she rises out of her chair. Castle doesn't risk a glance over at Beckett, intent on not having her follow him, but he feels her presence jump up all the same. She crowds into him, keeps a hand on the small of his back as they follow the nurse to an empty examination room.

Once Castle settles up on the sterile stretcher in the centre of the room, the old nurse turns to Castle. "I'll page someone to have a look at your wound," she says, leaving the door wide open in her wake as she exits.

When the nurse disappears around the corner, Beckett sneaks a glance out the hallway. Her head twists left and right and back again before she ducks back into the room, satisfied there's no immediate threat.

She takes to pacing them, the soles of her worn shoes scuffing as she turns quickly, no real room to walk. He lifts an arm toward her, intent on catching her hand and forcing her to stop, but she's just out of reach. So she keeps pacing, her footsteps short and few as she repeatedly covers the width of the room.

"Kate," Castle calls out to her softly. She pauses, angles her head to peer at him. "Sit down, Kate. Just relax. Everything will be all right."

He hopes she believes the words out of his mouth, because he sure as hell doesn't.

* * *

Doctor Stowen gives him a local shot for the pain, and another pill to help as well. He's young, still an intern, but he's efficient. Waits for the anaesthetic to set in, cleans the wound, and stitches him up. Tells him how lucky he is that the bullet just missed the bone, instead only piercing through the flesh on the outer side of his arm. The doctor is about halfway through treating the injury when he pauses and lifts his head to speak to Beckett.

"Would you mind giving us a minute, Miss?" the doctor requests.

Beckett shakes her head stubbornly, holds up an open palm in objection. "I'm good here."

Castle has to give the young doctor credit- he doesn't back down. Instead, he stands his ground against the fierce detective. "The nurses have some paperwork to be filled out," he insists, points a gloved finger to the nurses' station outside the room. "I can see they've just placed it up on the counter. Perhaps you'd like to give your friend here a hand and help him out. I don't think he'll be doing much writing for a while."

With a click of her tongue, Beckett overlooks the fact the wound is to his left shoulder- not his right- and slips out of the room, though not before throwing one last glance at Castle. He nods at her, signals it's okay with soft eyes, and so she goes with the warning she'll only be a minute.

The moment Beckett leaves him alone with the doctor, Castle's eyes narrow in wait of the comment he knows is coming.

"You should know I've read all your books," Stowen states as he cleans the wound on his shoulder.

Castle arches an eyebrow but remains silent.

"You should know I've seen the news about the two of you," the doctor continues.

Still, Castle says nothing.

"You should also know I have a responsibility to report all gunshot wounds. It's the law."

Castle's heart clenches, but he nods. "I understand," he rasps out. "Just- is there any chance you won't report Kate? She- she had nothing to do with this. She just got caught up in this mess. Please, just- leave her out of this. Please."

The doctor lowers his eyes with regret. "I can't lie to the police," he says on a sigh. "I don't believe what I've seen in the media about the two of you, but I can't lie. I'm sorry."

Castle presses his lips together, peers out the slats in the blinds to study Beckett. She's standing at the nurses' station, leaning against the tall counter as she fills out his paperwork. It's a trail they both don't want to leave behind, but they have no choice. And even as her pen scrawls across the page, she stares directly at him, not leaving him out of her sight for one moment.

His eyes lower then, afraid of what will happen if they don't have the time to run.

* * *

Castle jerks the moment the phone on the wall rings. The intern picks it up, speaks in hushed tones to the person on the other end of the line. Beckett throws him a shifty look, but Castle avoids responding when the doctor suddenly returns the handset to its cradle.

"Shouldn't be too much longer now," Doctor Stowen says to them. He wears a smile on his face, but Castle can hear what he's really saying.

The police will be up in any moment.

He needs a plan. Now. Anything that will get Beckett out of this, keep her safe, out of harm's way.

But then Doctor Stowen is speaking, interrupting Castle's thoughts and saving him. "Miss, why don't you head down to the pharmacy?" the doctor suggests. Castle's ears prick up, barely managing to keep his face void of emotion. "We have one at the end of this level, just around the corner. By the time you fill your friend's script, my supervisor should be finished with his once-over."

Beckett presses her lips together, refuses to unfold her crossed legs and move. Castle's heart lurches, knowing every second she's still here is another second he risk her being caught.

And so even though his heart tears with the knowledge he's about to be taken from her, Castle speaks up. "No need in waiting around here any longer than necessary," he insists.

At his words, Beckett moves. She rises slowly from her seat, places an open palm on his denim-covered knee and gives a gentle squeeze. "I'll be right back," she tells him softly- somewhere between a promise and a warning- before stealing off out of the room.

The moment she disappears around the corner, Castle's eyes slip shut in relief. "Thank you," he breathes.

"If you tell anyone she wasn't the one who insisted upon heading to the pharmacy, I could lose my job," the intern says quietly.

Castle shakes his head. "No one will ever find out." And they won't.

But right then, four uniforms and two detectives crowd into the room. The older detective with greying hair enters first, a self-satisfied smirk on his face that he's the cop who's caught America's latest fugitive. It's obvious to Castle he's never achieved anything of significance in his career, his belly round and the lines on his face aged. Now, though, he's about to make the front page of every paper in the country, and Castle can see there's nothing that will get in his way to ensure just that.

Quickly taken action, the man nods at a uniform and points to Castle, signalling to cuff him, but Stowen steps in front.

"I'm afraid that with his injuries Mister Castle cannot be handcuffed," the doctor protests.

The gruff detective holds up a hand for the uniform to pause. "You're his doctor?" he questions.

Stowen nods without pause. "Yes."

"Why didn't you report this gunshot wound the moment he came into the hospital?" The detective throws the intern a fierce scowl, but Stowen stands his ground.

"It's my primary job to care for patients, not to catch criminals," is all the doctor responds with. "Therefore, it is also my obligation to inform you that due to his injuries, Mister Castle _cannot_ be handcuffed. Surely there are enough of you here to keep a safe guard."

The detective clicks his tongue, the discontent that a young doctor half his age has put him in his place spreads all over his round face. "Was there a woman that came in with him? Possibly also being treated for an injury?"

"I can't release that information," the doctor apologises, but it's shallow. "Doctor-patient confidentiality. Whether anyone is or is not a patient of mine remains private."

The detective straightens his stance, rolls his shoulders in a threatening display. "Now you listen here," he growls, throws a thumb at Castle in the next moment. "This man here is wanted for murder. His partner is wanted for assisting a known felon escape. Do you really want to become the kid with the reputation for letting a wanted fugitive go? Because-"

The intern swiftly cuts him off. "If you get a search warrant for patient files, I'm obligated by the law to tell you who is or is not a patient, and what they may or may not be treated for. Right now, though, it is my responsibility to uphold the privacy of my patients."

Castle has to give it to the kid- the way he spins the story sounds as if Beckett is in another examination room somewhere, sitting obliviously in wait for the detectives to find her. All he has to do is hope Beckett takes refuge somewhere else while the small-town uniforms with a lack of experience pass over her.

The detective spins away then, directing three of the uniforms into action. "Search the hospital. Use any force necessary to bring the woman in."

Heart pounding in his chest, Castle forces down the sick feeling rising up his throat as three uniforms dart out of the room. The fact they head in the opposite direction does nothing to ease his stomach. But he's not given another moment to panic, as the detective grabs him roughly by his good arm and hauls him too his feet. Legs are shaking with fear, Castle stumbles, his shoes scuffing across the linoleum as he tries to right himself. The detective simply growls and pushes him forward. His voice is gruff, harsh in Castle's ear as he's read his Miranda Rights.

"Richard Castle, you are under arrest for the murder of Tessa Horton. Anything you say or do may be used against you in a court of law. You have the right to an attorney…"

As he's dragged out of the examination room to be taken into custody once again for the crime he never committed, nothing else makes it into Castle's awareness. All he can see is Beckett's tiny face peering around the corner at the end of the hallway, her eyes wide as she clutches uselessly to the dull yellow container of pills in her hand. It's a look of absolute devastation, of betrayal that he's sacrificed himself to keep her safe.

It's one he will never stop picturing, but he just reminds himself it's for the best.

For Kate, this is for the best.

* * *

_**A/N:**__ I may have taken a stretch with some of the doctor-patient confidentiality facts (I'm not too sure), but it's nothing too dramatic. Don't think it matters._

_More to come._

_Kelli._


	10. Chapter 10

_**A/N:**__ Took a leap with this one. Wanted to do something a little different. Hope it pays off. Don't squint, just enjoy. Either way, everything is starting to wrap up now. I'm really hoping to get this finished before I head away for the holidays._

_Kelli._

* * *

**Ten**

* * *

All eyes are drawn to him as Castle is escorted from the hospital. The gruff detective flanks him on one side, his grip on Castle's arm rough and unforgiving, and on the other stands the man's partner. A uniform in front leads the way outside, clears a path and keeps the curious eyes at bay. Castle ducks his head, tries to keep out of the line of sight, bracing himself for the crowd he's surely about to find outside the hospital.

He doesn't need his daughter seeing his face splashed across the paper as he's taken into custody.

When they make it outside hospital doors, though, Castle is shocked to find the parking lot of the hospital completely bare. There's no backup. No littering of squad cars. No dozens of guns pointed at him by all the cops this small town has. Sneaking another look at the surly detective on his right, Castle sees nothing but a smug smile on his round face.

Ah. The man wants the glory all to himself.

The other three uniforms still inside the hospital searching for Beckett, the uniform in front is forced to unlock the back door of the nearest squad car. As he does so, the detective to Castle's left moves away, heads for the driver's door on the other side of the car. It leaves Castle standing in wait with only one detective on his right hand side. A rookie mistake if Castle were to be anyone else- if he _were_ to be guilty. But the detective isn't fazed in the slightest. Just grins a yellow smile at him, eyes taunting as his fingertips dig harsh into Castle's arm.

"It's over," the man snarls with his gravelly voice.

It's not.

At that moment, there's a presence behind him. It yanks him from the old detective's grip, freeing him, yanking him backward. The relief is only for a moment. In the next, an arm curls tight around his neck, and a hand presses a cool steel barrel to his temple.

"Don't even think about it," Beckett cold voice cuts through the air the moment the surly detective reaches for his weapon. The man freezes.

At the sound of her voice, the uniform and the second detective spin around. Like the first, they both reach for their service weapon, but Beckett sounds out with her stern voice once again.

"Nobody move," she orders. They follow her demand, freezing with hands mid-air. "If anyone moves one inch, I'll shoot him."

The three police frown, their eyes shifting in confusion. "You'll-"

"I'll shoot him," she repeats. Her arm is rough them, shaking Castle's body as she proves to them she isn't messing around. The movement jostles his shoulder, shoots a piercing pain through his body. He squeezes his eyes shut, tries to push the pain from his mind, but a small cry resounds in the base of his throat.

When he finally clamps down on the pain, Castle stands frozen, still caught up with Beckett's threatening arm around his neck. He tries to shift his eyes to the right, catch a glimpse of Beckett's face, but she's tucked herself behind his body. Because Castle isn't the threat anymore- she is. _She's_ the one with the gun pressed to his temple. _She's_ the one they're going to shoot at the first wrong move she makes. So Castle stands as a shield, as a suddenly innocent man seemingly caught up in a hostage standoff by a New York detective. He blocks her the best he can, because if they're going to shoot her they'll have to go through him first. He tries his best to go along with her plan (whatever the hell it is), so he flinches, flashes a look of fear across his face even though he's never felt safer.

"You'll be all right," he hears Beckett breathe in his ear. His heartbeat steadies at her words, but he keeps his hands up in front of him in a display of defence. If they're going to pull this off- this act of _him_ appearing to simply be a victim, a hostage- he needs to appear terrified and innocent.

"Just take it easy," the first detective starts to speak. He opens his mouth to continue, but no words roll off his tongue. Beckett must have sent the man a silencing look behind Castle's back, keeping the control in this situation.

"Here's what's going to happen," she begins coolly. "You're not going to move an inch. You're not going to radio in for backup. You're going to let us back on out of here, and you're going to let us disappear, as if this day never happened."

"Ma'am-"

"Whatever bargain you're trying to strike, save it," Beckett swiftly cuts the other detective off. "I plan on taking Mister Castle with me. I _need_ him, and nothing you can do is going to stop me."

The police in front of them are still exchanging glances, trying to silently piece the puzzle together, figure out exactly what is going on since everything has flipped so suddenly on its head. They stand frozen, not one muscle in their bodies so much as twitching, though Castle isn't sure whether it's due to Beckett's threat, a complete shock at the sudden change in power, or a lack of experience in _anything_ due to the small town.

Castle isn't given a chance to contemplate the situation further as Beckett is already on the move. She takes a cautious step back, begins to lead them away from the scene. The arm Beckett has hooked around his neck forces Castle to move with her. As they move, he keeps his eyes wide, waiting until they begin to water until he speaks up for effect.

"Help," he chokes out.

The detectives try to take a step forward. Beckett freezes in her retreat, jabs the gun against his temple a little harder. "Don't," she shouts. "Stay there."

They do. They won't be responsible for the shooting of a now apparently innocent man.

Beckett takes another step backward, heads for their car now parked a few paces away. How she had time to move it without drawing attention the shattered windows and bullet-riddled door Castle doesn't know, but he isn't given the time to contemplate it. Her voice is suddenly rough and loud in his ear.

"Start the car," she growls at him.

She shoves the keys in his hand, forces him to start the car. The engine rumbles slow before it suddenly kicks to life, a burst of exhaust loud as it shoots out the rusting pipe at the tail of the car. Castle jumps, but beside him, Beckett doesn't even flinch. Her eyes are trained on the cops who still stand frozen, though whether that's for Castle's safety or just complete surprise, he doesn't know. Beckett takes the win, keeps her gun trained on Castle as she speaks.

"Here's what's going to happen," she says carefully. "You're going to let us drive out of here. You're not going to shoot, and you're not going to follow. You're not going to report this, because if we _are_ caught, I'll make sure as hell you all go down as the redneck cops who didn't bring backup to the arrest of the man believed by America to be a fugitive. Do you understand?"

Nobody speaks.

"Do you understand?" Beckett repeats, voice louder and growling in her throat.

This time, the detectives nod.

It happens all so quickly then. One second, Beckett is shouting at the cops over the roof of the car. The next, she's shoving him across the gearstick to sit in the passenger seat, jumping into the car in the same moment and the slamming the accelerator to the floor. The moment the car jerks forward, the bullets start to fly. They leave the barrel with a loud crack, whizz past Castle's ear as they fling forward through the car.

"Duck," Beckett hisses at him.

It doesn't matter. The car is already screeching out onto the freeway before the cops have a chance to root their shocked feet from bitumen and jump into their cruiser in pursuit.

"Do you have any idea how risky that was?" Castle hisses at Beckett as she swerves the car through the light traffic. "You could have been _shot_."

"Don't you even _dare_ start with me," Beckett growls. "You _knew_ the cops were coming, didn't you? And you sent me away."

Castle presses his lips into a tight line, saying nothing. He doesn't need to- the guilt is surely all over his face.

"Don't you ever do something like that again," she rasps out. "Do you understand?"

His eyes don't lower, remaining fierce to match her piercing brown orbs. "I'm not sorry."

"Do you have any idea what it was like standing there watching you being _dragged_ out of the hospital, and not being able to do _anything_ to help?"

"But you did," he insists. "Kate, you got me out. _Again_. You got me out, Kate."

She doesn't say anything. Just keeps a stern grip on the wheel, knuckles turning white. So Castle reaches over, covers her right hand with a gentle one of his own.

"You got me out," he repeats. "Though, as much as I appreciate it, did you really have to point your gun at me?"

Finally, she cracks a smile. "Well, I couldn't point my gun at the other cops," Beckett cries out in defence.

He arches an eyebrow at her. "So shooting me was the better alternative?"

Beckett sends him a look that screams he's being ridiculous. "The safety was on the whole time," she tells him dryly.

Castle lets out a shaky breath of laugher as he repeats her words from their very first case together. "Well, you could have told me."

* * *

Only just returning from his follow-up questioning with Tessa's neighbour, Ryan steps off the elevator to find the entire bullpen gathered around the small television hanging from the roof on the opposite end of the room as they hang onto every word of the broadcast.

"… _a surprising new twist in the murder of Tessa Horton. Until this point in time, popular mystery novelist Richard Castle was believed to have murdered the young woman last Friday evening. He was taken into custody shortly after, but managed to escape in the early hours of Sunday morning with the assistance of NYPD homicide detective Katherine Beckett. But a turn of events now begs the question- was Richard Castle the one who murdered young Tessa? _

_According to new reports, not one hour ago detectives arrived at an unknown address to attempt to re-capture Mister Castle and Miss Beckett. While Richard Castle was escorted away from the scene by police, Katherine Beckett managed to avoid capture, and just before Mister Castle was taken into custody the New York detective seemingly _abducted_ Mister Castle. With a gun held to Richard Castle's head, he was left with no choice but to flee the scene alongside Miss Beckett. Their whereabouts is currently unknown."_

The broadcast hasn't even finished before the door to Gates' office swings open with a loud crash and she's shouting at Esposito and Ryan to get over there. From across the room, the two partners shoot each other a look before scrambling inside. Hastily twisting the blinds shut for privacy, Gates slams the door the moment Ryan follows Esposito into her office.

"What the hell have those two done?" Gates hisses at them.

The boys just stand there, fumbling for answers they don't have.

"There has to be an explanation," Ryan provides weakly. Gates shoots him a silencing look.

"There had better be one, because any minute now I'm going to have the D.A. asking questions I don't have answers to," she growls. "Having one of the NYPD's best detectives branded as a fugitive? As someone who's holding Mister Castle _hostage_? The entire department is going to come under fire. I need answers, and I need them now."

Ryan gulps. "Sir-"

"Unless you have something to clear their names, I don't want to hear it," Gates swiftly cuts him off. "Get back out there and find me something I can use. Now."

They're not given a chance to protest. The phone on Gates' desk chirps loudly, cutting through the already tense room. The Captain takes one look at the phone, clicks her tongue, and ushers Ryan and Esposito out of the room.

The door slamming shut behind them, the boys turn to each other. "We need to contact Castle and Beckett," Esposito says to him in a low voice.

Ryan nods, heads for the elevator, his head ducked to avoid the piercing stares of the entire bullpen. "You think they're really going to turn their phone on now?"

Esposito's lips curl into a tight line. "We'd better hope so."

* * *

Castle doesn't know how they pull it off, but somehow Beckett manages to avoid their re-capture. Avoids the police hot on their tail, avoids being spotted by any witnesses, and keeps them out and in the clear. The car shoots through the small town, her foot planted firm on the accelerator until they find a local junkyard to swap cars. With their new vehicle, they cruise out of town with ease. The local police effort unorganised, they encounter no roadblocks as they cross the river and merge onto the freeway. Still, Castle remains tense until mid-afternoon, when the realisation they're both still free finally settles in.

They turn the radio on for all of a minute before he slaps it off again. Their names are broadcasted across the news, the radio host telling a confusing story after this afternoon's sudden turn of events. Beckett's eyes try and meet his, but Castle keeps his gaze focused on the countryside rushing by out the window. They may still be free, but they're in even deeper waters now, with no way of getting themselves out.

"We should contact the boys," he says suddenly, twists to plead with her. Gaze already on him, Beckett arches an eyebrow.

"Castle-"

"No," he interrupts. "I know what you're going to say. I know it's risky, okay? But Kate- we've got nowhere to go. Today's stunt has only fuelled the media. And I'm _thankful_, yes, but how much longer do you really think we can keep running for?"

Beckett exhales a long breath, shifts her eyes as she considers. It's a long moment of Castle staring her down until she finally concedes. "All right. We'll make it brief, though. Under a minute."

He nods. He'll take whatever she'll allow.

With his shoulder in the sling, Castle can't stretch into the backseat to reach for the duffel bag. Beckett keeps driving until they can pull off the road into a clump of trees that will provide them with enough cover to make the brief call. Pulling off the back cover, she clicks the sim and battery into place. She holds the old spongy button down until the screen brightens, waits the long minute it takes the dated phone to load. Finally, she opens up the contact list to hit call on the only number the phone has stored.

"What the hell happened?" Esposito's voice hisses the moment the line connects.

"I didn't have a choice," Beckett growls back. "Castle was shot. We-"

"Castle was _shot_?" Ryan shouts, but Beckett cuts him off, keeps the conversation brief.

"We had to go to the hospital. The doctor called in the GSW to the local police, and Castle was arrested. I didn't have any other choice."

"So you decided putting a gun to Castle's head and faking an abduction was the best method to make a run for it?"

"I wasn't going to turn my gun on the other cops," Beckett comments.

"I'm perfectly fine," Castle pipes up. "And thanks for asking."

The boys ignore his comment. "But don't you see what you've done?" Ryan questions, voice scratchy. "Beckett- they think _you_ murdered Tessa."

It's a low punch to his gut, the breath forced out of his lungs. "What?" Castle chokes out. "I- how the _hell_ can they think that? She's a cop."

"And she wouldn't be the first cop to get away with breaking the law under the cover of the badge," Esposito notes.

Castle swallows a sudden knot in his throat. They're all thinking about Montgomery.

"Gates is livid," Ryan adds, drawing their attention back to the situation at hand. "She doesn't believe anything the D.A. is saying, of course, but she has no ground to stand on. After the emails found on Castle's computer, the woman thinks Beckett killed Tessa in a jealous rage."

Beside him, Beckett gulps. Castle reaches for her hand, gives it a reassuring squeeze once he laces their fingers together. "Just how serious is it?"

There's a pause. "Beckett…" Ryan starts hesitantly. "They issued a warrant for your arrest for the murder the murder of Tessa Horton just a few minutes ago."

Castle's heart twists, stomach punched low and hard.

Beckett is wanted for first-degree murder.


	11. Chapter 11

**A/N:** Many apologies for the delay. Even though I knew how I wanted to finish this, I lost all motivation to write it. But, I don't want to leave it unfinished when it's so close to the end, so here we go.

Last time we left off, Castle had been shot and arrested. Beckett managed to execute yet another escape, and now she is wanted for the murder of Tessa. Cue dramatic music.

Kelli.

* * *

**Eleven**

* * *

Beckett is wanted for first-degree murder.

The realisation plays over and over in his mind, chants a haunting rhythm that chills his bones and flips his insides until they knot. His heart dips and tugs in his chest, mind so cloudy he can see no way out of this.

God- there _has_ to be a way out of this.

"We'll find something to clear your name, Beckett," Ryan draws Castle from his thoughts. His tone is too quiet to be reassuring, too shaky and too unsure.

Beckett doesn't say anything. Her eyes are absent, gazing out at the horizon with a fallen expression on her face, as if the gravity of the situation they're in has suddenly hit her. Castle stretches his good arm out, covers her hand ever so softly so not to startle her.

"Kate?" he calls across to her quietly.

She doesn't acknowledge him, but his voice seems to push her into gear. "Is Castle free?" she rasps her question to the boys.

There's nothing but the quiet whir of telephone static for a moment. "No," Ryan eventually responds. "She may have issued a warrant for Beckett's arrest, but the D.A. hasn't retracted the warrant for Castle."

Becket's eyebrows knit together. "But the media-"

"Doesn't know the whole story," Esposito interrupts. "You may have been able to dupe the local cops, but the D.A. doesn't buy their reports that Castle is a hostage. There's too much evidence linking Castle to the crime- fingerprints, emails…" Esposito blows out a frustrated breath. "They think you may have worked together."

At that setback, Beckett falls silent again. Castle holds back the concern that eats at his insides, because Kate Beckett is not one to be fussed over. He'll just- help another way. Find some way of getting her out of this.

She saved him. Twice. He will do the same.

"Were you able to find where Tessa went last Tuesday night?" Castle questions, tries to find an angle they can work to link Tyson to Tessa's murder.

"It was a bust," Ryan sighs. "Her neighbour mentioned he thought she'd been out on a date. She caught the elevator up with him about eleven, but Tyson wasn't with her."

"And she didn't mention to him where she'd been?"

"No. The only thing he could tell us was that she'd been carrying a takeaway bag, as if she'd planned on coming home for the night. Doesn't sound like a successful date to me."

Castle pauses for a moment, presses his lips together in consideration. "You know," he starts, "When you dine at a restaurant, you don't always bring home a doggy-bag. If it's somewhere special, you usually finish your meal. It's usually only once you start to frequent a place- head there only because you're too lazy to cook- do you bring leftovers home."

"You think Tessa may have been to the restaurant before?" Esposito questions.

"It's possible," Castle responds. "Speak with Tessa's roommate again. See if there was a particular restaurant Tessa would usually bring the leftovers home from. If we can find a restaurant, we can find a waiter to talk to."

As if not wanting to jinx it, Castle doesn't continue, but they all know what he's thinking.

If a waiter can identify Tyson, he's a waiter who might be able to free Beckett.

* * *

It's early evening when they finally stop after a long afternoon of driving in silence. Beckett swings the car into a shabby motel on the outskirts of some town just inside the South Carolina border. She grabs a handful of cash without a word, heads for the shack of a reception to get the keys to a room for the night. Castle doesn't protest, though. After today, he's surprised she hasn't argued they should be sleeping in the car.

When she returns for him, Beckett hoists the duffel bag out of the backseat. With a tilt of her head, she signals to their room. He follows in silence as she locks the door behind them and begins digging through the bag. A moment later, she's stretching an open palm at him, atop which sits two white pills.

"To help you sleep," she tells him.

Castle protests with a stubborn shake of his head, ignoring the pain that's picked up in the last half-hour. "We need to talk."

Beckett doesn't acknowledge his statement. Just sits the pills in the open cap of the container and heads to lock herself in the bathroom.

Even with an arm that's protesting with his every movement, Castle is quicker. He slams an open palm onto the door and wedges his foot between the frame, stopping Beckett from closing it. She startles at the movement, takes a step further into the bathroom.

"You don't get to shut me out," he growls. "Not now."

"There's nothing to talk about," she protests.

"The hell there isn't. You've barely said two words to me all afternoon. I let it go, gave you time to process everything, but you are not going to shove sleeping pills down my throat and then struggle with this mess on your own."

Beckett keeps a steady face, glares at him, trying to break him. He's stubborn, though, and doesn't break.

But she does.

Castle sees the moment she stops fighting. The face she's kept taut all afternoon falls, the eyes she's kept focused waver. Her tense posture sags, a quiet sigh escapes her lips.

"I never meant for things to get so out of hand," she rasps. "Every cop in Manhattan has blinders on as they run for us. They can't even step back and just _consider_ the reality that we didn't have anything to do with Tessa's murder."

"That's not your fault," he interjects. "It's Tyson's."

She doesn't seem to hear him. "I just wanted to help you," she whispers.

Castle's heart lurches. He's never seen Beckett so completely defeated, never seen her at such a loss. He doesn't know how to fix it.

"You did," he tells her, hopes it's enough. "You have."

She breaks anyway.

* * *

It takes them an afternoon full of unanswered phone calls and unhelpful neighbours, but Ryan and Esposito finally track down Tessa's roommate to a friend's apartment on the Upper West Side.

"Sorry for the difficulties tracking me down," Elle apologises. She stands aside, lets Ryan and Esposito through the door and into her friend's apartment. "I know this is a little out of your way. I just- I can't be there. Every time I walk into the room, I keep seeing her hanging... I- I had to get out."

"We understand," Ryan speaks softly with a sympathetic smile. "But if you're up to it, we do have a few questions."

She nods. "I saw on the news- about Detective Beckett and-"

"They didn't have anything to do with Tessa's murder," Esposito interrupts with a gentle voice. "They're being framed."

Elle shifts her eyes between the two detectives. "Then- who?"

Ryan pauses for a moment. "I don't know if you remember, but three years ago there was a man dubbed 3XK, or-"

"The Triple Killer," Elle finishes on a breath. "You think The Triple Killer is behind this? Wasn't he arrested?"

Ryan exchanges a shifty glance with Esposito before dropping his gaze to the floor. "He managed to evade our arrest," he hears Esposito offer.

"And now you think he killed Tessa?" Elle shakes her head. "That's-"

"We know how it sounds," Esposito continues. "We know it's hard to believe, but it's the truth. Richard Castle and Kate Beckett had nothing to do with Tessa's murder. They're as innocent as you and I."

Elle shakes her head slowly, takes a few steps further into her apartment. Her eyes are distant and scattered as she absorbs everything they're telling her. Ryan and Esposito keep silent, give her time and space, even if it's time they don't have.

Finally, Elle faces them once again. "So, what do you need from me?"

"We have a theory," Ryan starts. "Tyson has been watching Castle for a while- planning everything, waiting for the right moments to show his face. We think he may have taken Tessa to dinner last Tuesday."

Elle frowns. "But that's not even the night of the murder."

"All we're trying to do is link Jerry Tyson to Tessa," Esposito explains. "And we know you were out of town, but a neighbour spotted her coming home from a date late that night. He said Tessa was carrying a bag of leftovers."

"You know, I might know something about that," Elle nods in thought. "When the cops cleared our apartment as no longer being a crime scene, I threw out a container of Mongolian beef that had gone off. I remember it because it was unusual. Mongolian beef was Tessa's favourite dish- she'd never let it go off."

Ryan's ears perk up. "Did Tessa have a favourite restaurant she frequented?"

Tessa's roommate nods. "Yeah. A Chinese restaurant two blocks away. Red Dragon."

* * *

Ryan and Esposito arrive at the restaurant not fifteen minutes later. The place is closed, but through the front windows Esposito spots staff inside setting up for the dinner rush. They tap their badges on the glass and wait for the young man to fetch the manager from the kitchen.

"Mrs Lang?" Esposito asks for clarification when an old woman comes out to greet them.

She confirms his assumption with a nod, offers the detectives a polite smile. "How can I help you?"

"We have a few questions about some patrons that may have been dining here last week," Ryan starts off.

As he speaks, Esposito flips through the thin cardboard file to pull out a photo of Tessa. "Do you recognise this woman? She may have been a patron."

Lang barely takes a look at the photo before she nods. "Yes. Miss Tessa. She was here last Tuesday. Very sad what happened to her. She was my favourite customer. Always the same order- Mongolian beef, with a side of fried rice."

Ryan nods sympathetically, but presses on. "Was she dining alone?"

The old woman shakes her head. "No. She was here with a man," Lang tells them. "He was very sweet. Gave her some jewellery. A beautiful necklace, with a bracelet and earrings to match. Diamonds. Sparkle, sparkle. Very pricey."

Esposito flips over the next two pictures, holds up one shot of Castle and one of Tyson. "Do you recognise either of these men as the man who gave Tessa the jewellery?"

Lang nods and points to the picture on the right. "Yes. That's the man who dined with Tessa last Tuesday."

Ryan shoots Esposito a look, a hopeful flicker in both their eyes.

The woman just identified Tyson as the man who dined with Tessa, the man who bought her jewellery.

This is it.

This is what they need to set Castle and Beckett free.

* * *

**A/N:** If there's anyone still out there interested in this, there's just one more (probably short) part to go.


	12. Chapter 12

**A/N:** Ah, wow. I didn't realise so many of you would still be interested in this. Thank you for the amazing & encouraging response. Pushed me to finish this, and now (would you believe it) I kind of don't want to let it go. So thank you.

* * *

**Twelve**

* * *

Everything falls into place so quickly, so easily. It's all a little surreal, as if this is just a dream he'll wake from at any moment. As if he can just pinch his arm and he'll wake up in some dingy motel on the outskirts of only God knows where.

He pinches his arm. It's not a dream.

Castle's good hand grips Beckett's a little tighter, eyes searching for hers on instinct. She responds immediately with a soft smile, her thumb rubbing a soothing pattern on the back of his hand.

"You ready?" she asks him.

His stomach churns. Not ready in the slightest.

Beckett reads his mind. "Everything will be fine," she promises. "Haven't let you down yet, have I?"

He shakes his head quickly. "No. Never."

She nods at his faith in her then takes a step forward. His feet don't move at first until she tugs on his arm, urges him alongside her. Castle finally manages to unstick his terrified feet, following her lead as she keeps close behind Ryan and Esposito.

After two days of driving, the boys picked them up from Philadelphia in the early hours of this morning. They'd taken Mrs Lang's official statement, had her swear Jerry Tyson was the man who had dined with Tessa, the man who bought her jewellery. Even so, they'd known the word of one old woman alone wouldn't see the courts throwing out the warrants against Beckett and Castle. They'd needed more evidence to corroborate her story.

Lucky for them, and unlike the security footage from the precinct's holding cells, Tyson hadn't disconnected the restaurant's cameras.

"Courthouse security is waiting just inside to escort you," Castle hears Esposito explain.

"Don't trust you guys to bring us the final few steps?" Castle jokes, a weak attempt to lighten the mood. Esposito doesn't crack a smile.

"Are you kidding?" Ryan pipes up. "We're the cops that made the D.A. look a fool. We may be in Gates' good books, but where the D.A. is concerned we're not trusted with anything."

Castle clamps down on his tongue then. He hadn't realised just how serious of a situation the boys were in.

Beside him, he feels Beckett tense at the same realisation. Through her eyes he can see the guilt eating at her, sees her once again blaming herself for the mess they're all in. As she's done so many times for him, Castle offers her reassurance, brushes his thumb soothingly across her skin. Her eyes lift, seeking out his as her breathing steadies once again.

Then all too soon they're pushing through the back door of the courthouse, avoiding the media circus at the front of the building that stand in wait of their appearance. Inside, the central heating warms his wind-bitten skin, but the harsh fluoro lights sting his tired eyes. In the second it takes him to blink and adjust his eyes to the change in light they're flanked by security, the guards' hands ready by their weapons even though they _know_ there's no longer a need.

District Attorney Rebecca Watson greets them with a curt nod the moment they're ushered into the conference room. "Mister Castle, Miss Beckett."

Castle doesn't miss the lack of Beckett's NYPD rank. Neither does Beckett. Sharp nails dig into his hand, her way of silently telling him not to comment and aggravate the woman any further.

"Watson," Beckett returns out of politeness.

"Please, sit." The woman extends a hand to the remaining two empty chairs left at the grand rectangular table. Beside him, Beckett doesn't move to take a seat. He follows her lead and keeps his feet planted firmly where they stand.

Instead, Castle lets his eyes wander across the faces filling the room. In addition to those who'd escorted them through the courthouse, there are the expected security guards at both entrance and back exit. There's the D.A. and her assistant, and a scribe sitting in the back corner. There's Judge Markway and Captain Gates. The Chief of Detectives, and another from Internal Affairs. Castle's lawyer. Jim Beckett- acting as Beckett's lawyer, perhaps, considering his own family isn't here. The room is filled to the brim with face upon face he doesn't recognise, possibly lawyers from the suits they wear. He hopes, at least. They beat the press.

Castle is drawn back to the situation at hand as Watson clicks her tongue when neither Beckett nor himself move to take the offered seats. The woman lowers her head as if put in her place, taking a moment of silence to regather herself before she meets their eyes once again.

"On behalf of the city, I would like to extend my biggest apologies-"

"Save it," Beckett interrupts in a steely voice.

"Kate…" her father warns. No nickname, Castle notes. This is serious.

Watson tries again. "Miss Beckett-"

"Detective Beckett," she interjects.

The woman pauses. "That is yet to be decided upon."

Beckett's hand around his tightens its grip. Castle angles his head, finds her jaw clenched and eyes recoiling at the news, but she doesn't lash out. Just stands in wait of an explanation.

"As of present, you are suspended from duty with the NYPD pending further investigation," the D.A. continues.

Suddenly, Gates leans across the table and levels a stern glare at Watson. "I have already given my word that suspension is not necessary," the Captain says.

"And whilst your statement about Miss Beckett's outstanding service to the NYPD will be taken into consideration, she is not yet deemed fit to serve the city. Not only did she breach regulations regarding- _fraternisation _with partners," the D.A. shoots Castle a look, "She also abused her position of power for the benefit of said partner."

"Which would not have been necessary if you weren't so callous in risking Castle's life," Beckett speaks over the top.

"All right, all right," Judge Markway interrupts, knocking his fist on the wooden table to focus all attention on him. "Let's get down to the reason we're here today. Mister Castle, Miss Beckett- as follows by the evidence your colleagues have presented, the city of New York finds you both cleared of the murder of Tessa Horton. All charges regarding murder in the first degree have been dropped."

"And Tyson?" Castle can't help but question.

There's a harsh silence in the room that hits Castle hard. He sucks in a sharp breath, mind clouding over with fear until Beckett shifts her weight closer to him. He slides his eyes, finds her brown orbs filled with nothing but reassurance.

"For now," Captain Gates finally offers, "Jerry Tyson remains a wanted criminal."

He hears what Gates doesn't say. "Wanted for Tessa's murder?" he requests clarification.

"There-" Gates sighs, takes a moment to herself before continuing. "Although we have established you had no relationship with victim, there is no definitive evidence that Tyson was in any way involved in the murder of Tessa."

Castle hears nothing else. His stomach curdles, flipping wildly, the acid burning his throat as it races up his oesophagus. The room spins before him, each face laughing at him, reminding him of the man that isn't behind bars. Everything- it's all too much. For the first time since early this morning, he drops Kate's hand, spins, and bolts from the room.

He barely makes it to the bathroom in time, stumbling through the swinging door before his nauseating insides force him to crumble over the sink. He shakes his head, tries to rid Tyson from his mind and his life, but all he sees is the man's haunting face. It only makes everything worse. He coughs and splutters, mind dizzy as it swirls too fast in his head.

There's not even a second of peace before he hears Beckett's following steps cross into the room behind him. She crowds him, murmurs reassurances in his ear that he doesn't want to hear. Castle tries to push her away, tell her he just needs a moment, but it's useless; his one good arm is the only thing supporting him, knuckles turning white as he grips the edge of the countertop. So he ignores her, his insides burning as he gags and gasps for air. The sweat builds on his forehead, jacket too tight around his body, constricting his heart and lungs in an iron-tight clamp.

Yet somehow Kate knows. She always knows. Her slender fingers swiftly move to unbutton his thick coat, open palms steadying him as she tugs it off his shoulders and lets it crumple in a heap on the floor. She presses a comforting kiss to the skin below his ear and whispers her words straight into its shell. One hand curls around his good shoulder, the other presses lightly between his shoulder blades. But even with the soothing rhythm she rubs across his back, the walls close in around him, mocking and suffocating.

"It's still not over," he chokes out, voice raspy as he heaves.

There's nothing but silence as Beckett presses another lingering kiss to his skin. This time, though, it's not reassuring.

All it does is tell him she too knows this isn't over.

* * *

It's a long few hours before Beckett and Castle are finally released from the confines of the conference room. Even though he wants nothing more than to take Beckett's hand and lead the both of them somewhere private, somewhere safe, there are discussions to be had and negotiations to be made regarding the laws they've broken. He thanks God it's Markway overseeing the proceedings, letting them negotiate down to time served considering the extenuating circumstances with Tyson and his threats.

Beckett isn't as lucky. Despite all their arguments Internal Affairs doesn't budge regarding her suspension. A week, for now. More once the situation has been examined further, until they take into consideration the events surrounding the first suspension she served not long ago. She keeps a steady face through everything, though. Doesn't let on how just how hard they both know it's hitting her. Castle gravitates his body toward hers, letting himself be a source of silent comfort. For now, it's all he can do. Reminding her a suspension isn't a dismissal will only end with him on the receiving end of a cold glare.

Then, finally and yet all too soon, they find themselves on the grand white staircase outside the courthouse. Castle blinks in the harsh midday sun, shields his eyes with a hand from both the light and the cameras. They push through the sea of media, head for the street where his family are waiting. A frantic Alexis throws herself at him, and he draws her in to a long overdue hug. To him, it feels as if it's been far too long since he last saw her, yet only a week has past.

A single week.

God- he can't believe it's only been seven days since Beckett came to him in holding, cuffs in her hand and begging for him to just trust her. A week since she'd thrown away her job- her _life_- just to save him from the fate that had behold him in prison. A week since they'd fled with only one another, leaving everything behind to just stay alive.

Everything has changed. He's changed; _they've_ changed. They've grown stronger, more in-sync with each other than ever before.

It may have only been a week, but it's been a week spent constantly at her side. A week of them helping each other, risking everything for the other.

Now, all too suddenly, they're supposed to just slip back into their usual routine. Share a kiss on the sidewalk and head for two different homes, slip between their covers and fall asleep with ease as if none of this ever happened.

He can't do that. There's no _way_ he can do that, but at the same time, he doesn't know what to do.

Still standing on the sidewalk beside the waiting town car, Castle ignores the shouts of the media behind them. All he sees is Beckett as he turns to her with a question in his eyes. She's already studying him, a curious glimmer in her eyes as if she's waiting for the question she knows he'll ask.

"Where to now?" he asks her quietly. He needs her to tell him what to do, where to go. How they're going to put this behind him.

She smiles at him, lacing their fingers together and giving a gentle squeeze. "Home."

He doesn't ask whose home she means.

If he's learned anything from this past week on the run, it's that anywhere with her is home.

* * *

"When you come right done to it, would you be willing to break her out of prison?

Because that, my boy, is true love."

- Martha Rodgers, 3x05 _Anatomy of a Murder_

* * *

**A/N:** To me, it feels this story should end here. Any longer at it would begin to drag further than I believe it already has. Despite my beliefs of this story's progression, it is amazing to read just how much you are all still enjoying it.

Regarding the unknown whereabouts of Tyson… this was never about finding him, but rather what would happen if Beckett broke Castle out of holding. However, seeing as I've left the ending with Tyson open, I do have some vague plans for a semi-sequel. But we'll see. I do have some other ideas I'd like to explore, but maybe if there's enough interest.

For now, though, you can find out what I plan on writing next on my tumblr ( kellisworld . tumblr . com ). I currently have an idea that I might bounce around on there soon, find out how much interest there would be for it. Or if there's something you particularly want to see, feel free to harass me. As we've all seen with my slack updating during this fic, I can be particularly lazy at times & need a little encouragement.

Finally, I would like to extend one final thankyou to all those who have supported this story, even through the tortoise-paced updating. Thank you.

Kelli.


End file.
